A Trial of Risk and Fall
by The Konfessionist
Summary: Winona, a brilliant inventor, leaves the vault in hopes of finding her father. All the while, she is struggling to make amends with her childhood bully, maybe even-LOVE him. ***DISCONTINUED***
1. CHP 1: A Fun Experiment PART 1

"It'll be _great!_ You'll see, Wally." A young Butch Deloria grinned from ear to ear while they sat at their desks in the small, Vault 101 classroom.

Mr. Brotch just finished his lesson, and the students had already made their way down to the cafeteria for lunch; Butch, Wally, and Paul being exceptions. They wanted to talk about Wally's birthday party that was in three days; he was turning ten, so it _had_ to be the best party ever!

The boys had already gained a minor setback when the Overseer said he'd be watching over the festivities, but there was nothing they could actually _do_ about it.

"I don't know. It seems kind of... _Mean,_ don't you think, Butch?" Paul asked hesitantly.

The dark-haired Deloria shot him a glare. "It's _supposed_ to be, stupid!"

"Sounds like fun." Wally agreed with a smile also. "Fine, I'll invite her."

"Great! We'll do it when we're playing Hunt the Mutant, it'll be dark, _no_ one will know it was us!" Butch chuckled mischievously.

"I don't know guys. I don't think it's a good idea," Paul warned.

"Are you with us, or against us, Hannon?" He replied sternly.

"Yeah, _Hannon_?" Wally chuckled.

"I- I'm with you." The dark skinned boy choked on his words with a nod. "Fine. I'll do it."

"Okay. Get as much garbage as you can from the cafeteria up until the party, we'll bag it up and put everything in place." Butch got up from his chair. "C'mon, I'm starving."

The two boys followed Butch out of the classroom, Paul tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention as they got into the hallway.

"What is it, Hannon?" He asked with annoyance.

"Uh, who are we inviting again?"

Wally shook his head disapprovingly as Butch slapped his own forehead in disbelief.

"Doctor James' daughter, stupid!" He exclaimed.

"Yeah, the mute girl with the weird hair and the weird eyes?" Wally added on.

"O-Oh." Paul stammered with a nervous chuckle. "Right..."

The boys continued on to the cafeteria, brainstorming ideas for the birthday party all along the way, too distracted to notice the small figures that hid in the shadows around the corner from the classroom entrance.

They had listened to the boys' _entire_ conversation, and knew everything they needed to know.

"_See?_" One of the tiny figures stepped out, brushing her black hair out of her rounded face and pointing a finger at the other. "I _told_ you!"

The other figure stepped out as well, watching the boys turn a corner and disappear from her sight.

"I don't think my eyes are weird..." She replied quietly. "And I'm not mute!"

The dark haired girl's mouth dropped open in surprise. "Winona? _Really?_ Out of _everything_ they talked about, all you're focusing on is them calling you mute?"

"There's a difference between being mute and being_ quiet_, Amata." She pointed out.

"Oh, whatever!" She rolled her dark eyes. "So what are you going to do? It looks like Wally's going to invite you to his party so Butch can play a mean trick on you."

Winona's smile rivaled Butch's in ill-behaved thoughts.

Amata began to smile as well. "You've already got a plan cooked up, haven't you?"

"You know me so well Amata. Now, I just need some elastics, and a few other things."

"Elastics? I have some scrunchies you can borrow. So what's the plan?"

Winona chuckled. "I'll tell you when we get all our stuff put together. You go to lunch, I'm going to go find my dad. I think he'll have some things I need."

"What are you going to tell him?" Amata called after her friend as she began to jog down the hallway opposite of where the boys left.

Winona smiled with her silvery hair whipping behind her, purple eyes full of scheming stars as she gazed to Amata over a boney shoulder.

"A fun experiment."

"Alright, I just invited the weirdo. She said she'll come." Wally ran up to Butch and Paul with a smile on his face. Only two more days until his birthday party, and the execution of their big prank.

"Great. Paul got a lot of garbage, this is gonna be good!" Butch sniggered at the thought of trash being drenched all over Winona, dripping from her hair and hanging from her thin shoulders with that cute little nose of hers twisted in disgust.

Mr. Brotch was late for class for some reason, leaving free reign for the kids until he entered the classroom. He couldn't help but notice Winona was gone as well, being the only kid in the classroom with hair that could blind you when she stepped into the Vault's light at just the right angle. She was sort of hard to miss.

_Heh. Probably got in trouble for something..._

Butch realized that the thought was foreign. Winona, in _trouble?_ That was just as likely as the Vault raining down and Beatrice not being psychotic, or him not getting into trouble!

But when the young boy looked up and saw her walking into class with Mr. Brotch, her textbook clasped tightly against her chest and his large hand on her upper back as she looked to the floor, he grinned even more.

_God, this is gonna be good!_ He thought with pleasure.

Winona looked up from her trained stare on the floor to look at Butch, brushing her silver hair out of her face to get a better look at him. Her hair was always hanging in front of her vibrant, purple eyes.

"What?" She asked meekly, her hair falling back into place in front of her eyes.

"_Nothing._" He replied with a knowing snort of amusement.

But his smile quickly faded when the ends of her thin, pink lips curled up into a mischievous grin, her thoughts dancing around wildly behind her big eyes.

She quickly turned away and she sat at her desk that faced Mr. Brotch's at the front of the room, placed her book on her desk top, and turned around to talk to her best friend, Amata.

_What was __**that**__ all about?..._

"_Buuuuutch!_" A high pitched voice called out.

_I'm doomed._ He thought exhaustedly as he slammed his head down onto his desk.

Butch could hear Wally and Paul chuckle behind their hands as a girl wrapped her arms tightly around his neck lovingly.

"Hi Butch! Did you miss me?" The girl asked annoyingly, pecking him on the cheek.

"Ew, Dorothy!" He cried, jolting up from his position and wiping his wet cheek with his jumpsuit sleeve, glaring up at her.

Her chocolate brown hair was in tight little curls, they reminded him of the corkscrew his mother used to open her wine bottles. She had small blue eyes that tended to turn beady whenever she saw Butch looking at other girls, and a small, perky nose.

"You knew I was sick, _right?_ You never came to visit me! You said you'd come visit me Butch!" She whined nasally.

"I never said that!" His face was starting to grow hot.

The little Deloria turned even _angrier_ when he glanced up over Dorothy's shoulder to see Amata hunched over with knee-slapping laughter. But it quickly melted into pure embarrassment when he saw the look on Winona's face; she was unflinching, rarely blinking, like a curious kitten. He realized that she was _studying_ him, which was a lot worse than being laughed at.

"Miss Horowitz, will you please find your seat so I may start the lesson?" Mr. Brotch asked sweetly from the front of the room.

She jut out her thin bottom lip into a pout. "Fine!" She whined, turning back to Butch with that innocent look on her face and a huge smile. "I'll be back for _you _later!" She pecked him on the cheek again and pranced away to her desk.

"Yuck!" He grimaced, wiping his cheek again as Wally, Paul, and pretty much the rest of the class burst into hearty laughter. He didn't care, all he noticed was Winona's burning eyes trained on him in that calculating look she had on her face.

It's not that Butch didn't like girls, he did, but not Dorothy. She was clingy, annoying, jealous, stupid...Did he mention annoyingalready?

"Alright class, we're going to watch a science film on plants and something called _photosynthesis._ You are to take _your own_ notes during this educational movie, I will be checking them after it is over. The minimum is one page of notes. That is front _and_ back."

Some students groaned in an effort of having to work, while some just simply pulled their note books out to prepare themselves for the soon coming extremely _boring_ lesson.

Butch pulled out his messy notebook; just so he could pretend he was working, probably doodle or something, when his eyes wandered up and he met the brazen irises of Winona. They only seemed to intensify as Mr. Brotch flicked the lights off.

But before he could tell her to mind her own business and turn around, she shot him a shy smile and turned back forward.

_She is so freaking weird! _Was his last thought as her stare slowly seeped into his mind.

"Hey, Wally," Butch whispered and tapped on the boy's shoulder who sat in front of him.

"What is it?" He turned over in his chair, arm strung over the back, making it easier to look at Butch.

"Dorothy isn't invited to your party... _Right?_"

"There!" Winona smiled as she held up her contraption, showing it to Amata who sat on her bed, reading an old Grognak the Barbarian comic book.

Amata peeked over the pages to look at it, furrowing her brow with interest and put the comic down.

"What is _that?_" She asked, pointing an accusing finger at the thing.

It looked like a toy gun for kids, but it was made out of scrap wood. The trigger was a clip glued on the back of the toy with a paper clip glued down at the front, one of its prongs bent upward, almost like a sight to look down on.

Winona giggled. "My new "toy". Wanna see what it does?"

Amata nodded excitedly as Winona held out an open palm to her.

"Elastic."

"Elastic!" Amata repeated as she tore the one she was wearing from her stubby ponytail, letting her short hair fall around her face as she slapped the elastic into her friend's upturned hand.

Winona put the elastic around the bent paperclip and stretched it back, nestling it into the teeth of the clip. She looked around the room for a target, and found an empty Nuka-Cola bottle settled on her desk. She aimed at it carefully, pushing her thumb down on the back of the clip to have the elastic snap out and fly across the room to knock the bottle off the desk, shattering on the floor.

The two girls winced under the loud noise.

"Oops?" Winona smiled nervously, shrugging her shoulders.

Amata laughed boisterously. "N-No! That thing is _brilliant!_" She crossed her legs, putting her hands on her knees excitedly. "So what's the plan?"

"Well, I figured that since Butch is using the dark to his advantage, why can't I?" She grinned and tucked her shimmering hair away from her eyes.

"You're telling me that you're going to shoot him with your toy gun while you play Hunt the Mutant?" Amata asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, when you put it _that_ way..."

Amata smirked. "I love it! You know what would make it _better_ though?"

"_Right_ when I think it couldn't get any better than this. Lay it on me Almodovar!"

"Well, you could-"

They were interrupted by the giant steel door of Winona's bedroom sliding open, her concerned father hurriedly rushing in.

"I heard something break, are you girls alright?" He asked worriedly, looking down to Winona's toy with suspicious eyes.

"Is that one of your new inventions, sweetheart?" He asked lightly.

"Maybe!" She replied with a wide grin.

"You never make your inventions without a good reason," He crossed his arms over his chest as he looked down to her with observant eyes. "I would like to know that reason, it makes me fidgety knowing that your new toy looks similar to a gun."

"Uh…I-" She looked up to Amata for an answer, both girls biting their bottom lips.

"Nona, what is that toy meant for?" Her father asked sternly with his hands on his hips.

Winona winced under the nickname her father gave her; _Nona._ Those four letters alone sent the fear of _God_ into her little body whenever she did something wrong. It was a lot more effective than using her full name whilst lecturing or scolding the little inventor; which was Winona Aurelia Parker.

She pulled nervously at the black ribbon that tied her hair back. It had been her mother's; her dad always said that while her mother was working, she'd use it as a hair band to hold back her short curls. It helped her think, and somehow, it helped Winona think too when she was thinking of blueprints for another invention, or in the process of bringing the invention to reality.

"It's for… Hunt the Mutant?" She replied with an innocent smile.

"_Oh_ no, you don't- _Hunt the Mutant?_" He asked in disbelief.

"Yeah. Wally Mack invited me to his birthday party tomorrow. We're going to play it in the auditorium!"

Her father raised an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest. "Wally Mack? If memory serves me right, he is one of Butch's friends, correct?"

Winona nodded hesitantly. "Yeah..."

"I am to assume that Butch will be there also?"

She nodded again as silence strung out between the doctor and his talented daughter.

"…You're going to shoot him with your new toy, aren't you?" He asked apprehensively.

Winona's only reply was a broad grin.

Her father sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Winona, what have I told you about using your inventions like that? Do you remember what happened the _last_ time?"

Amata giggled; _she_ certainly remembered.

"I apologized to Beatrice for getting pudding in her jumpsuit! She said it was okay!"

"Lord only knows why anyone would need a pudding catapult…" Her father mumbled under his accented breath. "And no, I meant the last time you made an invention that could _harm_ someone."

Winona grimaced at the memory, it was something she didn't want to talk about for a _very_ long time.

"Hey, I didn't start this war! Butch did! And the pudding catapult was a good idea at the time!"

"Darling, I know Butch picks on you, but it takes the bigger person to walk away," He pointed out, kneeling in front of her with a small smile. "Two wrongs don't make a right. You know that, don't you sweetheart?"

She cocked a stubborn eyebrow at him. "If you want me to walk away as the bigger person, _you're_ doing laundry this week!"

"What is that supposed to mean?" He asked as he brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

"Butch is planning on dumping trash all over me when we're playing Hunt the Mutant, because we're doing it in the dark, he thinks I won't know it was him." She shrugged. "I figured I'd beat him at his own game…"

Her father gave her a worried expression, and looked up to Amata warmly.

"Amata, would you please step outside for a moment? I need to speak to Winona privately."

"Yes sir." She replied obediently as she grabbed her comic book and hopped off the bed, walking out and turning around to slap a small hand against the door console. As the door slid shut, she gave an apologetic look to her friend.

Her father got up with a small grunt and sat on the edge of her bed, patting his knee.

"Come here, sweetheart."

Winona rose up from the floor and crawled into his lap, pressing her ear against his chest to listen to his heart beat. She liked the way his accent rumbled in him as he spoke to her, how his chest rose and fell rhythmically with his heartbeat. This was how she usually went to sleep; curled up in his lap without a care in the world as he read a book to her.

"War. War never changes." He spoke softly, his chest echoing against her ear.

She turned her face up to look at her father. "Dad?"

He looked down to her with a smile. "From the beginning of time, man knew the effect of rock against bone. They knew what it was like to kill, they knew how easy it was to take a man's life. Ever since, wars have broken out all over the world. It's written in every chapter of your history textbook in Mr. Brotch's class, isn't it?"

She nodded slightly and wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight hug. He kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair gently.

"Killing has been in the name of everything from justice, to religion and God, to pure psychotic rage. The tools changed, the people have changed, the names of the fallen have changed, and the reasons will _always_ change. But you know what doesn't change?" He asked as his chin pressed down onto the top of her head.

"What doesn't change?"

"War. All the little factors will change, but the general _idea_ of war will never change, sweetheart. That is what threw us into this abyss of steel walls and packaged food," She chuckled under him. "That is why wars are written in textbooks. It's in hopes that future generations would have learned from our ancestors mistakes."

"But it didn't make a difference, dad." She looked up to him with wide eyes. "It still happened! So why do we still read about them?"

"Because, the war that supposedly ended the world wasn't the end of mankind. There will always be another war to fight, another battle to march into, another tear to shed for lost ones…" He wrapped an arm around her as he bent forward, picking up her abandoned toy from the floor and handed it to her.

"This fight you have with Butch is no different."

She slowly took the contraption from him, analyzing it carefully with a fresh mind and new eyes.

_War… Never changes…_ Her mind wheeled as her father kissed her on the top of her head once more, picking her up and setting her down on the edge of the bed.

He walked across the room to the door and pressed the button to open it, chuckling deeply as Amata scrambled away from it in an effort to cover up her eavesdropping.

"Dad?" Winona called, making him stop and spin around with his hands in his lab coat pockets.

"Yes, Nona?"

"If I still do this…" She looked up at him. "You won't be mad at me?"

He shook his head and smiled down at her. "Of course not sweetheart. I could never be upset with you, nor could I be disappointed. If you decide to continue with this fight you have with Butch, then I will not hold it against you."

Her father strolled past Amata, who quickly skittered into Winona's room and shut the door.

"What happened? Did you get in trouble? Are you still going? Did he _yell_ at you? What happened? _What happened?_" She barely managed to get a breath out.

"He- gave me a choice…"

"A choice?" Amata scratched the back of her head. "To do what?"

Winona smiled sadly down at the toy as she placed it down on the bed.

"War… War _never _changes…"


	2. CHP 2: A Fun Experiment PART 2

**A/N: Well, this is part two to A Fun Experiment! Butch gets his just desserts, MUAHAHAHA :D! I hope it doesn't come out too stupid, or farfetched for you guys... I thought it was kinda funny xD and a bit mushy-gushy at the end :3 (Sorta, if you squint hard enough, you might see it ...) **

**So enjoy reading, and dropping a review wouldn't hurt anybody either ;3! (HINTITY HINT HINT!)**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>"Is everything set up?" Butch asked excitedly as Paul gave him a thumbs up. "Alright, you know what to do. Get lost Hannon!"<p>

Paul walked away obediently, leaving Butch and Wally to talk amongst themselves.

They were in the auditorium with Freddie Gomez, Christine Kendall, Wally's sister Susie, and one or two other kids that had been invited as well.

Wally snorted as the Overseer began making his way towards the two boys.

"Look at who's coming over." He nodded to the smug man.

Butch looked up just in time to see the dirty glare he always received when he was around Amata's father.

"Hello, Wally. I hear you are turning ten today." He asked in a brisk voice, turning his eyes back to the birthday boy with his arms clasped behind his back in an "orderly" manner.

"Yeah." He replied with a nod.

Wally always gave the Overseer short answers, mostly because if he exceeded that, he would subconsciously shoot his mouth off and he'd say something that could land him as a garbage burner when he got older.

They say these infamous "G.O.A.T." tests never lie, but if the Overseer could tweak it to his liking?...

Butch was sure he already hit _that_ landmark with the snooty man. Ah, he could smell the burning of pudding cups and curdled milk in the air already!

"Well, as Vault rules states, upon a child's tenth birthday they are to gain a Vault responsibility, to make it a better place." He coughed out a _"Good lord, save us all."_ And continued. "You are to report to my office tomorrow morning, 9 p.m. _sharp_, and you also get this."

The Overseer pulled out a strange gizmo with a large, glowing screen and a stretchy bracelet underneath it, along with a glove that held a knob.

"This is a Pip-Boy 3000. Every child gets it upon their tenth birthday, along with access to the lower levels, if they use that privilege the _right_ way." He warned.

The Overseer handed the Pip-Boy to Wally, who rapidly slid it onto his wrist and wiggled his fingers, playing with the buttons like a small child as the paranoid adult walked away.

"This thing is a piece of junk!" Wally cried, slamming his ungloved hand into a clenched fist against the wide screen.

Butch pointed and laughed cruelly when the screen went black upon contact.

"Wow, I feel bad for you." He choked out between laughs, oblivious to the glare Wally shot him.

"Shuddup. Oh, look who's here now! You're _girlfriend!_"

"What?" Butch snapped, looking around the auditorium for a place to hide from Dorothy.

They weren't boyfriend and girlfriend, but _she _thought they were, and wasn't afraid of making it known with the other girls in the vault.

Wally pointed to the door, sniggering.

Butch followed the accusing finger to see Winona making her way over, his eyes widening when he saw the unusual sight. Her hair was held back in a short pigtail with long, black ribbon. Her straight bangs hung over her big, purple eyes, and otherwise, she looked- she looked-

Butch shook his head of all thoughts, erasing them like an etcher-sketch he found in the lower levels once as Winona handed Wally a box wrapped in colored paper with a bow on top.

"Here, Wally. Thanks for inviting me to your party." She smiled.

He hastily ripped open the present, tossing the lid off the box and staring down at what lay inside.

"_Whoa._" He raised his voice in disbelief, his eyes widening as he pulled out the sleek piece of wood that was painted over a shining layer of black, a chiseled peg perched at the front with a black clip at the back. Ghostly flames streamed from the front, where the barrel would be, if it were a gun.

_What the- where did she get __**that?**__ Where can __**I**__ get one?_ Butch grimaced at the toy Wally received with jealousy and folded his arms firmly over his chest.

Winona smiled a little. "Do you- _like_ it? I made it myself, hand painted flames and all! Here, try it out." She pulled out a little clear plastic box of orange elastics from her pocket.

Wally took it greedily and opened it, taking a band and stringing it over the peg and to the mouth of the clip, looking around with impatient eyes for a target.

Butch swallowed hard when his shiny eyes fell upon him, his lips curling up in a grin.

"No! Don't you dare!" Butch shrieked as he ran away, and then whimpered out when a sharp sting jabbed between his shoulder blades. He glared at Wally, rubbing the afflicted area. "Wally! You Radroach!" He spat angrily.

All Wally did was laugh, putting his new toy and the box of elastics into his present box, putting the lid back on.

"This is kinda cool! Thanks, I guess, Winona."

"Don't mention it." She turned around to walk away, but stopped and brought her chin over her thin shoulder to look at Butch.

He gave her a heated glare as well, but his eyes softened when she gave him a knowing smile before walking towards Freddie Gomez.

_She's been smiling at me a lot lately… Does she like me or something?_

He almost started gagging at the thought; he didn't know what was worse. Dorothy thinking that he's her boyfriend, or Winona liking him!

Wally walked towards him, still laughing. "You scream like a girl, man!" He shook his head as he placed the box on the metal table along with the rest of his birthday presents. "I almost feel bad for going through with this prank. This toy is pretty cool!"

"_Don't._" Butch seethed as he slapped his hand against Wally's chest, his glare still trained on Winona's back. "We're still going to do it, so be prepared for her to run back to her daddy crying like a little baby. C'mon, tell everyone Hunt the Mutant is gonna start, and that we're picking our mutant."

Wally nodded and went to Stanley, telling him to move along with the party.

"Alright kiddos! Gather around! We're going to play Hunt the Mutant now!"

All the kids scurried into a half circled crowd around Stanley who picked up a metal bucket.

"We're going to choose our mutant. Does everyone know how to play Hunt the Mutant?"

Some kids nodded, while others stared to the ones who nodded with confusion.

"Alright! For those of you who don't know, Hunt the Mutant is kind of like hide and seek, except the person who is the mutant is the one hiding. Everyone else will be the mutant hunters. The doors will be closed, so whoever is chosen _cannot_ leave the auditorium, and the lights will be off, making the game a bit more difficult- and fun!"

Christine raised her hand shyly.

"Yes, Christine?" He called to her warmly.

"What happens if one of us catches the mutant?"

"Well, you win a prize, of course! But the prize will be kept secret until the mutant is caught." Stanley replied as he whisked his hand into the bucket, mixing up the scraps of paper that lay inside.

"How do we know if we've caught the mutant?" Freddie called.

"It's dark, so, you don't! That's what makes the game fun! So, is everybody ready?"

Everyone nodded excitedly as Stanley shuffled the names one more time.

Butch looked over to Winona with his arms crossed over his chest. Amongst the crowd of bouncing, bubbling kids, she stood still with her arms at her sides.

_What a freak… She never talks, she never acts happy or sad or nothing. She's just- creepy!_

"Butch!"

"What?" He whipped around to look up at Stanley.

"Uh, you're our mutant."

His eyes widened. "_What?_"

"Look at the bright side, Butch!" Wally slapped him on the back playfully. "You certainly look like a mutant!" He recoiled, scrunching up his nose as if he smelled something foul as a grin crossed his lips. "Man, you even _smell_ like one!"

The auditorium broke out in children's laughter as Butch spun around heatedly, pulling back his fist with the intention of punching Wally right in that big mouth of his.

But the young boy hesitated when his blinded by the color red eyes fell upon Winona's face. Her features were twisted up in- was that _sympathy_ he saw? Out of all the emotions she could have finally shown, to _anyone_, she was showing _him _sympathy?

He quickly retracted his balled up fist and looked up to Stanley with a huff. "_Fine._ I'll play the mutant."

"Alright, everyone spread out across the floor while I turn off the lights!"

The kids all scurried away, leaving all but two motionless; Winona and Butch, who stared at each other.

"What?" He bellowed at her angrily.

"He didn't hurt your feelings did he? Wally, I mean..." She asked softly.

Butch almost stumbled back. What was this? What was she trying to _do?_

"Wh-Why would _you_ care, you mute freak!" He yelled, watching as she winced under the weight of his mean words.

"Hey! No name calling, Mister Deloria!" Stanley warned strictly from his spot by the light switch.

Butch turned his face back to Winona and rolled his eyes, looking down at her. She was staring down at her feet, and before he could open his mouth to spur on more insults her way, she walked away from him. He grinned in satisfaction.

_Showed her where her place was…_ He thought as he stood there. But something nagged at the back of his mind, what was that? The fact that Winona picked today of all days to actually _say something_ to him, and she had the nerve to ask if his _feelings were hurt?_

What the heck was going on?

He gave out a deep sigh as the lights flicked out, Stanley calling out to the kids.

"Hunters! Find that mutant!"

He could hear hesitant footsteps lingering around him in the darkness as he stepped forward, making sure to keep his arms to himself instead of instinctively flailing them around in front of his body; as you would do to find a light switch in the dark, or something.

Butch heard one or two people trip somewhere around him; one even fell _right_ in front of him. But as whoever picked themselves up off the floor, he just stepped around them cautiously, letting out a heavy breath of relief as the person didn't notice him.

He could feel his heart pound in his ribcage, he had never felt this excited! Knowing that there was something, _several_ somethings, chasing him around in the dark... He would never know when he could be caught, which could be at any moment now...

_**If**__ I get caught!_ He thought confidently, but stopped when a small hand grabbed onto the back of the collar of his cobalt jumpsuit.

_Just don't make a sound! They'll probably think they grabbed onto someone else._ He thought reassuringly, but that reassurance made a mad dash for the exit of his thoughts as a smooth voice muttered into his ear.

"I know what you were going to do, Butch." It was Winona, her hot breath hitting his ear. "I've known about your little prank for quite a few days now."

Butch's muscles constricted under his prickly flesh. She had known, all this time? But _how? _And when did she even find out?

_She must have been listening to our conversation back at the classroom… Darn it!_ His mind fumbled.

He shuddered a little as warm fingertips lingered against the flesh on the back of his neck.

"And now, you're going to get a taste of your own medicine."

"Wh-What?" Butch's voice strained as he looked over his shoulder.

He tensed up upon the first thing he saw. Even in the dark, her purple eyes burned brightly. It was like seeing a ghost; you shook in your boots with fear, but at the same time, the sight is mesmerizing.

Her eyes trailed back from him as she shoved him forward, and he could feel his heel catch a thin string of wire.

"No!" Butch cried out as putrid, rotting garbage and compost fell upon his hair and shoulders. He could _feel_ the smell, along with something slimy and disgusting, waterfall down his chest and seep into the woven cloth of his jumpsuit.

But the torture wouldn't end just yet as he felt another hard shove against his chest, his body fell back to be suddenly encased by thin, metallic walls.

He could barely think with the pungent scent of the trash that he bathed in invaded his nostrils and attacked his barely functioning mind. He felt a whoosh of air in his face as something slammed shut in front of him. He banged against it.

_Am I- in a locker?_ He recalled the row of lockers that lined one of the walls of the auditorium. They were all empty, just mostly for show. _She got me! She __**completely**__got me!_

"The mutant is neutralized!" Winona called out impassively, and through the holes of the locker, lights of the Vault suddenly flickered on and blinded him. He looked down in disgust at the candy wrapper that draped his shoulder, mold clinging in little spots to its underneath.

His situation was _a lot_ better when he was still in the dark. He only had to tolerate the smell.

"Oh? What makes you think you have the mutant?" He heard Stanley's voice call as about half a dozen pairs of feet pattered louder as the bodies moved closer to where he was.

"Take a look." Butch could only _imagine_ the smug look she had on her face right now! God, how it _angered_ him!

"Kids, one rule I forgot to mention is that if a hunter says they have found the mutant, when they _haven't,_ that hunter becomes the new mutant and the game will start over. Understood?"

Butch imagined the nods of kids, but he could see it himself as the locker door swung open.

He was more expecting the disgusted looks of wrinkled noses and wide eyes as some garbage spilled out onto the floor, revealing a disheveled- and _very_ smelly- Butch Deloria.

"Bu-_Butch?_" Stanley asked as he put a hand over his nose and mouth to mask them of the smell. "What happened to you?"

"Man, now you're just _putting_ mutants to shame!" Wally laughed out with the other kids behind covered noses.

"Shut up, Wally!" He frowned, stepping out from the locker and glaring at Winona wrathfully.

How _many _times would he be surprised by her today?

Butch almost cringed under her gentle touch as she began brushing off the large bits of garbage with her bare hands, tossing them to the floor with a small smile on her face. It was as if the smell didn't bother her at all…

"Mix in a little Abraxo cleaner with detergent when you wash your jumpsuit. The stains will come right out."

Butch was absolutely shocked. If the roles were flipped, which they _should_ have been, he'd be pointing and laughing his little behind off! But no, Winona was not only relishing her victory, at the same time she was making herself look like a little goody two shoes by helping him clean up!

He shoved her away angrily and stomped off, huffing out over the laughter of the other kids. "I'm gonna go clean up!"

"Well, Winona, it looks like you get the prize! A nice, fluffy slice of chocolate bunt cake from Mrs. Palmer. Enjoy your prize!" Stanley said giddily.

As Butch made his way to the stairs, he stopped to look over his shoulder and give another heated glare to the girl who beat him at his own game. Angry eyes met emotionless ones as she held the plate of her prize, the large, metal door sliding down in front of him to sever their stares from one another.

* * *

><p>Butch laid in bed, staring at the cold wall with his arms crossed over his chest in irritation as he waited in the darkness for sleep to take him under.<p>

"_I know what you were going to do, Butch."_ Winona's voice whispered an echo in his head, the skin on the back of his neck tingling as if she were grazing it again.

_God! She's so- so-_ He gave out a quiet groan of frustration as he suffocated his face with the pillow. He didn't know how to describe someone like her!

"_I've known about your little prank for quite a few days now."_

He closed his eyes and rolled over onto his back to stare up at the ceiling.

_The only way she could have found out is if she was listening to our conversation about the prank… Unless Paul __**ratted**__ us out!_

"_The mutant has been neutralized!"_ Her voice burned in his head tauntingly as he clasped his pillow over his ears, tightly closing his eyes.

_Just go to sleep, Deloria! Go to sleep!_

But over his thoughts, he could hear muffled voices between the cotton fillings of his pillow, and removed it from his face and ears to sit up in bed and stare at the closed door.

"Hello Stanley, what can I do for you?" His mother wasn't drunk, that's for sure. She was probably too lazy to get something from the cafeteria tonight…

"Hey, is Butch okay? I saw the little accident he got into during Wally's party."

_**Little **__**accident? **_He seethed as he clenched his pillow under his tightening fists. _I had to bathe three times and wash my hair five times!_

"Yes, he's fine. Just a little mad is all! What is it you got there?" She asked curiously.

"Oh! Right, the kids were playing Hunt the Mutant in the auditorium when Butch got into that accident of his. The one who got him, James' kid Winona, won the game and got a slice of chocolate bunt cake as a prize."

"That's good for Winona! So why are you here with it?"

Butch stared at the door. _Winona didn't eat her prize? Why did she give it to Stanley? Why is he even here __**with**__ it, asking about __**me?**_

"The kids sort of laughed at him and made a mean joke or two. She was worried that his feelings were hurt, so she asked me to bring this for him when I got the chance to."

The boy unclenched his pillow from his fingers and stared down into it.

_She's giving her prize, to me? What the heck kind of prank is she playing at?_ His mind screamed.

"He's asleep right now, but I'll give it to him in the morning. I'll make sure he thanks Winona."

Butch scoffed quietly. _Like __**heck **__I will!_

"Alright, take care Ellen!"

"Bye Stanley." Butch heard heavy footsteps fade away as the front door slid open and closed, Stanley's shadow stretched across the floor as he walked past the bedroom window in the dim lights of the Vault.

But Butch already knew what he was going to do about this. Winona was _not_ a friend of his, he did not like her, and he certainly didn't _care_ about how nice she was to him.

They were always going to fight; and he'd make sure that she would never win another fight against him again as he laid back and drifted off to sleep.


	3. CHP 3: Grognak and Sweet Rolls PART 1

_Where is everybody?_ Winona wondered as she meandered down the long hallway. _Amata wasn't in her room, dad's gone too... I haven't even seen hide or hair of Butch and his friends._

Her stomach grumbled achingly in her midsection, causing her to stop her walk and rub it in a circular motion to calm it down.

She was up all night working on another invention; a little robot that would help her clean her room when it got messy; and it was _always_ messy with all the odds and ends lying around. There was even a grease splatter on the wall!

...That was from the robot. She got it activated for a few seconds, but then it spurted grease and crashed to the floor. Needless to say, the noise woke up quite a few _angry_ Vault residents. Her father came to the rescue and managed to calm them down, give her a brief scolding about being up so late, and returned to bed when she pretended to go to sleep.

In all her excitement and determination to bring life to the little toy, she had forgotten to eat dinner. And breakfast.

Winona decided to grab a snack from the cafeteria before heading back to her room to clean up the mess and get back to work. She was going to ask Andy, the Vault's hovering robot to help her, but she couldn't find him either.

_Where has everyone gone?_ She thought solemnly as she pressed the button for the cafeteria door and waited for it to slide open, looking around in the darkened room.

_Why are all the lights off?_

"He-Hello?" She stammered quietly. "Is anyone in here?"

"Happy birthday!" Enthusiastic voices swirled around the disoriented little girl as she rubbed her eyes from the blinding light that flicked on in the large room.

"Stanley, you turned on the lights too fast, you _blinded_ the poor kid!" Officer Gomez called out.

Another round of "Happy birthday!" bellowed around her with the sound of noisemakers and clapping. Winona moved her hands from her eyes and blinked, finally adjusting to the brightness of the room. The first thing she saw was Amata in a birthday hat, colorful balloons, and a streamer that said 'Happy Birthday!' in shiny lettering.

"Happy birthday, honey." She looked up as her father gave her a tight squeeze and kissed the top of her head. "I can't _believe_ you are already ten years old..."

Winona giggled as she wrapped her arms around her father's waist, her fingertips barely grazing against one another on his back as they stretched around his form. She buried her face into his stomach affectionately.

"I love you dad." She mumbled against him.

"I love you too, sweetheart," He stroked her silver hair and adjusted the black ribbon that tied it back into a low ponytail. "Words can never describe how _proud_ I am of you. If only your moth-"

"Congratulations, young lady!" The Overseer exclaimed over her father's praise, cutting him off as he walked over.

"Hello, Overseer." Winona mumbled shyly with the side of her face grazing her father's stomach. She clutched his lab coat awkwardly while he wrapped an arm around her shoulders protectively.

"Now, I don't need to tell you how special today is, do I? You only turn ten once, after all!" He gave her a smile that was absent of anything but greed.

Winona didn't like the Overseer; he was a strange being to her. She felt that he liked controlling the vault, and only focused on "making it a better place" so he could continue keeping the residents in his tightly clamped palm of power. Why he was so strange to her was because she could never understand why someone would take pride in over-lording so many lives that he couldn't care any less about.

"When you turn ten in Vault 101, you are given a Vault responsibility, to make it a better place not only for yourself, but for the other residents that you share it with. You _also_ get this, a Pip-Boy 3000!"

He pulled out a strange looking machine that resembled an overbearing watch to her. It had a large face that softly radiated an eerie green demeanor, three orange buttons below created its simple features and above, in silver lettering, was the words "Pip-Boy 3000", giving the machine a name.

Winona slowly stepped away from her father, looking down at the Pip-Boy with curiosity thumping her heart in tune to her brain as she tightened the black ribbon in her hair. She looked up to the Overseer for approval in taking the small object and heard her father chuckle behind her, his hand pressing into her upper back.

"Go ahead, honey. It's yours now."

You didn't have to tell the little inventor twice as she gratefully took it from the Overseer, caring for it as gently as a new mother would hold her baby.

"Get used to it." The Overseer replied in a drawl tone, crossing his arms over his chest boldly. "You also receive your first Vault work assignment tomorrow." He gave out a throaty chuckle as he walked away to sit down at one of the booths.

Winona looked up to her father with the Pip-Boy clutched in her tiny hands of uncertainty.

"He scares me." She muttered as her father chuckled warmly, kneeling down in front of her with his soft hands on her shoulders.

"The Overseer? He's harmless, just trying to work for the betterment of the Vault. Here, let me help you put on your new Pip-Boy, sweetheart. Hold out your arm."

Winona did as she was told and watched as her father slid it onto her thin wrist, bringing her hand to fit into the glove and made sure it was snug.

"There. Now everyone knows that you're a grown up."

"I have one just like you now, dad." She smiled and pointed to his as he ruffled her silvery hair.

"Yes you do... Now, to lay down some ground rules on your new toy."

Winona sighed up at her dad with her hands on her hips. "No taking it apart, no opening it up to see what's inside, I do not play with it after lights out, and I do not try to modify it in _any_ way." She grinned. "Did I mention everything?"

"Just about," He slowly got himself up off the floor and looked down at her lovingly. "I want you to go and enjoy your party, you only turn ten once, so enjoy it as best you can."

"I will." She nodded and gave him another squeeze. "Thanks dad!" And ran over to Amata excitedly.

"Look at what I got!" Winona smiled as she held up her arm to show Amata the Pip-Boy.

"I know, I saw it this morning when Stanley gave it to my dad." She giggled. "We sure surprised you, didn't we?"

She nodded and hugged her friend. "You sure did. This is a great party Amata, thanks."

"It was nothing, your dad was worried you'd find out. I told him that you are _so_ easy to fool!" She pulled back from Winona, still laughing.

"Am not!" She pouted with her knuckles on her hips.

Winona looked up as the door of the cafeteria slid open to reveal Dorothy rushing in, making a beeline for her with a large box tucked under her arm.

"Hey Dorothy. Thanks for co-"

"Yeah, yeah, _whatever_." She cut her off rudely with a nasally snort, her eyes darting around the room like a hungry hawk. "Where's my Butch?"

"H-He's- uh, over there." Amata replied in an annoyed voice as she hesitantly pointed to a booth in the far corner; Butch sat with Wally, they were talking about something Winona couldn't make out over the chatter of the birthday guests.

Amata knew well that she could have lied and said Butch was at his apartment, but, this was a _lot_ more entertaining!

"_Buuuutch!_" Dorothy cried, making him jump in his seat as if the Vault's fire alarm had suddenly gone off. He looked up to her, groaning with the roll of his eyes and slapped his forehead.

"Here's your present," She hastily spoke, tossing the large box into the air.

"Hey!" Amata cried out as Winona caught it and was shoved into the young Almodovar, due to Dorothy rushing past both of them to sprint to Butch's side.

"Jeeze, Dorothy is such a ditz!" Amata mumbled with a shake of her head as she helped Winona to her feet.

"She's not that bad, so what if she has a crush on Butch?"

Her friend raised a dark eyebrow at Winona, crossing her arms over her chest. "I never mentioned Butch. I was _just_ saying that she needs to watch where she's going!"

Winona giggled and looked down to the box. "I guess this is my birthday present from her. I wonder what it is?"

"Oh, no! Best friend's present first!" Amata cried with her hands behind her back. "Guess what I got you?"

Winona cracked a wide smile to her friend. "I hope it has something to do with my favorite barbarian?"

"You mean _our_ favorite barbarian!" She exclaimed as she pulled out a pristine comic book, the flimsy cover reflecting the lighting.

Her purple eyes widened. "Is that- _issue 14?_" She gasped in disbelief.

"Uh huh!" Amata nodded, her short dark hair bobbing with the movement. "And with _no_ missing pages!"

"Oh my gosh Amata, this is great! Thanks!" She hugged her friend tightly, almost dropping the box on the floor.

"You better like it!" She joked. "It's my dad's, who woulda guessed? My _father_ reading comic books?" She sighed with a shrug. "But I guess everyone was ten once! Now I give you permission to open Dorothy's present."

Winona giggled as she peeled back the tape that closed the mouth of the box, putting it on the floor to open it up and stare down at the present. Both girls gaped at it with wide eyes and mouths open, completely speechless.

"Is that-" Amata began.

"I think it is…" Winona replied as she got down on her knees, lightly grazing her fingertips against the plush fabric.

"I dare you a week's worth of peach yogurt cups that you're too chicken to wear that!" Amata challenged.

Winona grinned as she closed the box, getting up to hold out her hand and spit into the crease of her palm's flesh, then offered it to her in the affirmation of a deal.

"You're on, Almodovar!"

"I can't believe we got dragged to this _stupid_ party!" Butch exclaimed in irritation as he watched Winona cower against her dad's stomach when she saw the Overseer coming over.

"Yeah… Hey, where's Paul?" Wally looked around the cafeteria.

"Dunno. Prolly late or something, who _cares_?" He leaned onto the table top and tapped his fingers down on the desk in boredom.

He couldn't _believe_ his mother made him go to this thing! A few months back when she gave him that slice of cake from Winona, he refused it by smashing it into the floor in a chocolaty mess.

Coming to the party was supposed to be his way of thanking her for being "considerate".

"So what do you wanna call the group, Butch?" Wally asked, trying to take his friend's mind off of his boredom. "How about Wally and the Willies?"

Butch snorted. "How about Butch and the Greasy Little Radroaches? Who put _you_ in charge, Wally?"

He kept quiet and looked back over his shoulder for Paul, poking at Butch's tapping fingers. "Hey, look, it's-"

"_Buuuutch!_"

The noise practically catapulted him out of his seat- and quite frankly, his skin- as he saw Dorothy toss something to Winona and shove her into Amata as she made a mad dash over to him.

She didn't give him enough time to get up and high-tail it out of there.

"Hi Butch! I missed you, I haven't seen you in _two. Days!_" She exclaimed sadly, hugging his arm in a tight grasp and cuddling into his shoulder.

_There's a reason __**why!**_His mind exclaimed bitterly as he tried tearing his arm out of her talons, but was immediately shoved over in his seat to make room for their newcomer.

Butch pressed his elbow onto the table and nestled his cheek into his upturned palm as Dorothy claimed his other arm as her property, trying to make small talk with Wally, which was difficult on his part because all she wanted to do was talk about her "boyfriend".

Wally also had difficulty in repressing a smile and a laugh.

To keep himself occupied from blowing a fuse and taking his anger out on his only present group member, his eyes wandered around the room. Andy hovered in front of the birthday cake, talking with Stanley about something happening down on the reactor level.

Butch's eyes soared over the room again, and was caught by the sight of the two _best friends_ that were at the front of the room by the silent jukebox. Amata was holding something out to Winona, it looked like a thin book of some sort, and she looked down to it with bug-like eyes. He could only make out parts of their conversation.

Something drowned by the small crowd. "…_Our_ favorite barbarian!..." Amata grinned.

Something, something, "_Issue 14?_" Winona asked in shock.

_Barbarian? Issue 14? Winona, a __**Grognak the Barbarian**__ comic book fan?_ Butch found the thought to be highly amusing as they opened up the box Dorothy tossed at her on the floor, and both began squealing about something girls only found exciting.

Winona suddenly got up and closed up the box. She spat into her palm and held it out to Amata, who spat into her own palm, and shook hands with her best friend.

Butch thought that was kind of gross, mostly because it was two girls doing it, but if it was two _guys_ doing it…

"Hey, Wally? What if whenever we agree on something, we spit on our hands and shake on it?"

"What?" Wally asked, looking up from his drink glass to Butch. "Are you serious? That sounds kind of-"

"It permanently seals deals. You wanna do it, or _not?_"

He nodded hastily. "Sure, sure, whatever you say Butch."

"_Ew!_ Spit!" Dorothy grimaced as she spoke in that high-pitched, childish tone of hers.

Butch gave her a sharp look of daggers, when out of the corner of his eyes he saw Winona rush out of the cafeteria with the box Dorothy handed her.

"Uh, Dorothy, what was in that box Winona had?" He looked up to her calmly.

"Her present, _silly!_" She swooned as she swiped her finger down the tip of his nose playfully, giggling a little.

Butch pulled his face back from her touch and wiped his nose clean of Horowitz germs. "What did you get her?"

"It's my mom's dress from when she was younger along with a matching pair of shoes, she said I could give it to Winona as a birthday present because I'm too big for it!" She cocked her head to the side, her shoulder length brown curls spilling around the corners of her eyes. "Why?"

"No reason…" He asked as the cafeteria door slid shut.

Moments- in what felt like _hours_- had passed before the door slid open again. Everyone looked up to see Paul walking in with Winona, both of them laughing about something, but what they noticed the most was what she was _wearing_.

Her white hair was down so it reached the ending of her shoulder blades, but the black ribbon she sometimes wore kept her straight bangs out of her face. She wore a simple, mint green dress that complimented her eyes and made them glimmer; it had a square neck, short sleeves, and the hem stopped above her knees, and her feet were adorned with beaded ballet flats in the same mint green color. Her Pip-Boy sort of clashed with it, but no one seemed to notice or care.

"Oh, sweetheart…" Her father called as he looked up at her. "You look beautiful."

Her coffee cheeks turned a light shade of red as she gave her dad a small smile. "Thanks."

Amata began to laugh. "Oh my God! You're actually _wearing_ the dress!" She exclaimed.

Winona shot her a look. "You owe me peach yogurt for a week!"

"I suppose since it's her birthday, she can wear that… But starting tomorrow she _must_ wear her jumpsuit." He heard the Overseer mumble to Mrs. Palmer.

Butch couldn't get over how foreign the sight was to him. Her soft green dress, and silver hair only paled in comparison to her latte-colored skin, and how fiery her amethyst eyes burned in contentment. He had never seen so much- _drive_ in her.

With all the surprises she kept giving him obliviously, without hitch or hesitance, he could swim in all of it.

But sooner or later, he'd drown.

"Butch, what are you gawking at?" Dorothy asked possessively with a frown on her face.

"I- _uh,_" How was he going to explain this to her? He was staring at his sworn enemy with- what was it?- the light twitches that fluttered in his heart… How did this happen? How could he _let_ it happen?

Yeah. He's drowning.

"Butch Deloria, what are you looking at?" She exclaimed with the tears in her eyes and hands on her hips. Her commotion made Mrs. Palmer and Stanley turn around in curiosity.

Someone needed to through him a life preserver, and _fast_.

"I was just- uh," He grinned upon the first thing that came to mind. "How _stupid_ Winona looks in that dress!" He chuckled at his sheer brilliance.

"Oh. Okay!" Dorothy took that answer as she clung to his arm again as if for dear life.

_That dress. Is __**evil!**_He decided as Winona went over to Mrs. Palmer to strike up a conversation; he listened in on the entire talk.

"Hello daring! You're ten years old already? My, my, I remember when I was ten years old, as well. The Vault was _crowded_ back then!" The old woman exclaimed with a chuckle.

"Thanks for coming Mrs. Palmer, I appreciate it." Winona responded politely.

_What a little goody two shoes!_

"Nonsense, deary! You're listening to me ramble, while you're waiting so patiently for your present!"

He could see Winona smile a little with a shake of her head. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"_Fiddlesticks!_ What ten year old doesn't like presents?" She carefully handed Winona something wrapped up in a napkin. "Here. A nice sweet roll that I baked this morning, and it's just for you! No sharing is required today!"

"Thank you Mrs. Palmer, I hope you enjoy the rest of the party." She replied modestly as Amata inched around her backside and over to the bar where Andy hovered in front of the cake.

Butch didn't pay much attention to anything else, but that was until Winona came over to their table just as Amata shrieked out.

"Andy! _Wait!_" She cried as the robot brought out a large disk saw, which seemed to spin out of control as cake splattered everywhere.

Butch had difficulty breathing, with how hard he was laughing, as a large glop of icing mixed with cake landed in Dorothy's hair, causing her to scream out in surprise and jump up from the table.

"Oh _no…_" Amata breathed hopelessly as Dorothy ran out of the room, crying.

_The cake's destroyed, Dorothy's gone, and now, I can tell Winona how much this party sucks!_ He chuckled and supposed that good things _did_ come to those who waited patiently for them.

But his mind had different plans once his stomach growled. He realized he was sort of looking forward to the birthday cake, he was starving!

"Hey dorkface!" Wally called to Winona, as she turned around to look at him. "Your Pip-Boy looks like a piece of junk!" He laughed.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Then why are you wearing one that is the same make and model as mine?"

He stopped laughing. "Well, I- erm…"

Butch's lips curled up as his eyes fell down to the solution to his problems; the sweet roll that lay hidden by the napkin wrapped around it in her lightly clasped palm. He got up from his chair and towered an inch or two above Winona as he placed his hands on his hips.

"I'm hungry! And that _stupid_ robot destroyed the cake!" He pointed to Andy with an angry finger, and then brought his hand back to her. "Give me that sweet roll you got from old lady Palmer!"

Winona looked up at him with wide eyes, then down to the lumpy napkin in her hand.

She shook her head and looked back up at him. "I can't do that Butch."

"_What?_ Are you saying no to me?" He demanded as he stomped a foot on the ground.

"Yes, because I can. This is my present, and my party, so leave me alone Butch." She replied calmly, as if commenting on the Vault's lovely weather.

He looked past her to see her father smiling proudly at what was transpiring between the two youngsters.

_No._ He couldn't let this happen again; not where she looked like a complete hero and a goody two shoes. Not when her father was so approving of her… When was the last time he had gotten approval from _anyone?_ Everyone looked down on him like he was a walking speck; receiving those dirty glares as he slunk around the shiny halls of steel, from everyone but- but her…

The thought infuriated him to his rotting core. She was supposed to be his enemy! He was supposed to be her enemy! Liking his sworn enemy was the same as waving the white flag, even if no one but him realized, or noticed it.

As Butch's fist rolled up into a taut ball and pulled back, he forced any and all affection that he could muster into his knuckles as his fist shot out, aiming for Winona's face.

A grin crossed his lips when he noticed the look of horror on her father's expression.

"_Butch!_" Officer Gomez warned as he jumped up from his chair to intervene.

But the little Deloria was just as horrified and shocked as the rest of them as Winona's arm swiftly came up to have his punch collide with the hardened screen of the Pip-Boy on her wrist. He could feel the bones cracking and bruising under the skin of his knuckles.

"Ow!" He cried out, retreating his hand to his body to survey and care for the damage that was dealt.

He looked up to see a sly smirk crawl into the flesh of her pink lips as she held up her wrist, tapping the screen with a taunting finger.

"I know a lot about the Pip-Boys. This is an A Series Pip-Boy, it's not as fancy as the other models, but it's the sturdiest one made by Vault-Tec. It can take a lot of damage," Her hand came back to her side as she unfurled the napkin from her sweet roll, deeply biting into it, and nodded to his injured hand.

"You should get some ice on that." She muffled between small swallows of the food her mouth contained and turned around to walk towards her father.

That was it. _This_ was it. Not only months ago Butch had sworn that she would never win while he fell into Loserville ever again. Yet, here he was, his reddening knuckles a literally sore reminder of Hunt the Mutant. If only his fist met those quiet lips of hers, if only they smashed against her pronounced cheekbones or given a ring of dark purple against those bright eyes…

His heart wouldn't be aching as much as his hand did right about now.

Why had he done that, again?...

It was difficult to compare all of the above; which hurt more? His hand, his heart, or the sound of air escaping from his quickly deflating ego?


	4. CHP 4: Grognak and Sweet Rolls PART 2

"Alright, I'll send her right down Jonas." James pulled back from the intercom as he tried to repress a grin from leaking onto his face. His eyes danced across the room in search of his little girl, who wasn't so little anymore.

He found her at the back of the room in the booth Butch had taken with Wally earlier. When Gomez and Overseer Almodovar lugged off Butch by his collar, Wally quickly followed after them.

As he strolled over, he watched as she shared her sweet roll with Amata, talking about what had happened.

"Butch is such an idiot, I can't _believe_ he tried to hit you at your own birthday party!"

Winona shrugged. "It's Butch, I guess…" She ripped off a small piece of the roll and placed it on her stubby tongue.

"He made a complete ass of himself!" Amata continued, fuming, leaving the sweet dessert untouched.

James chuckled behind her as he came up to the table. "I wonder what your father would say if he heard you using that sort of language, Amata?"

She cringed in her seat and turned her head over her shoulder, smiling and waving awkwardly to him.

"Uh, _hi_, Winona's dad…"

He laughed once more and looked down at his daughter. "Jonas just called on the intercom, he would like to speak with you down on the reactor level."

The girls looked to each other in a short gaze of confused and hesitant stares as Winona hopped off her seat.

"You can have the rest of my sweet roll, Amata."

"Yes!" She grabbed the roll, tearing off large pieces and nibbling on them quickly.

"You go on ahead darling, I'll be there in a moment." He assured her as she walked out of the cafeteria. He looked to the window settled above the little bar and watched as Beatrice stopped her, mouthing birthday wishes and promises of an excellent present through the glass.

"Are you going to give her your present?" Amata asked through a mouthful of the delicacy.

"Of course, I thought I'd save it for last." He looked down to her friend.

"You know she's probably just going to take it apart, _right?_" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

James laughed softly as Winona finally went on her way again to the reactor level.

"I know she will. It's in her nature…"

"Hey, what are _you_ doing down in the reactor level, young lady?"

Winona halted her walk to a complete stop as she came to the bottom of the stairs that greeted the entryway of the reactor level, looking up to a very strict looking Jonas with his arms folded over his chest, his booted foot tapping on the ground.

"I thought kids weren't allowed on the reactor level!"

Winona smirked. "Say _that_ to my Pip-Boy, Jonas!" She hoisted it up so he could look at it.

He unfolded his arms and placed them on his hips, letting out a laugh as his harsh façade fell apart.

"Well, would you look at that? You're just one step away from working with your dad in that clinic of his upstairs." He finally managed to speak.

"Speaking of dad, he said you wanted to talk to me?" She asked as he placed an arm around her shoulders, leading her away to another closed door and let her stand there.

"He'll be down in a moment, just wait for him."

Winona gave him a look of pure befuddlement until she looked around his figure to see her father coming down the stairs slowly, and then stepped down towards her.

"Dad?" She asked curiously.

"I wanted to give you your surprise after you got all your other presents," James spoke in a warm voice as he fingered the BB gun he held behind his back, he could see Winona get antsy as she bobbed up and down on impatient footing.

He gave her a simple smile as he brought the gun out and gave it to her with both hands.

Her eyes widened as they slowly drifted over every part of the little gun carefully; examining closely like it was a live test subject as she pulled off her black ribbon from her head, clasping her hair together into a ponytail so it could be tied back.

"If your mother were here, she'd be just as proud of you as I am. Happy birthday pumpkin."

"Dad, this is- amazing! I love it!" She took it from him, aiming at the wall with one eye winked shut to look down the etched sight.

"And _no_ taking it apart. It has a lot of little pieces, do you know how difficult it was to find a spring that small?" James asked, pointing down to her new toy.

Winona blinked and looked up to him with a cocked eyebrow. But then, she smiled.

"I guess it's a good thing that Butch "misplaced" that switchblade of his, huh?" She concluded for him with a smile.

"Mentioning Butch, I want to speak to you about what happened earlier in the cafeteria." He replied with his hands lightly twitching with perspiration in the pockets of his lab coat.

"He tried taking my sweet roll!" She exclaimed, looking up from her gun. "And _another_ thing-"

James' sudden laughter cut her off. "No, no, sweetheart, I'm not upset. I just wanted to say that I am happy with how you handled it. You handled it like an adult would, not a child. You did not lash out at him or do anything brash, you were calm and levelheaded."

She gave him a small smile. "Well, that's what the bigger person would do… You taught me that."

"Then I have taught you well. Now then, would you like to give your new toy a try?"

Her silver brows came together in concern, her eyes flickering just like her mothers did whenever she was worried or troubled; he remembered that look well. There was no sight of it when she found out she was pregnant.

"But- we can't shoot a gun down here… Or anywhere _else_ in the Vault, for that matter." She replied in a matter of factly tone.

That's exactly what he wanted her to say.

"You're absolutely right, not if we want the Overseer to come kicking down our door. But Jonas and I have set up a little area for you to use, like a shooting range to practice your skills a bit."

Just as James spoke, Jonas came up behind Winona and opened the door behind her. As it slowly swung open with a gentle creak, she looked in to see a shallow barrier of lockers. Past the lockers were targets held up by poles on a rotating disk, so when they were hit, they'd rotate around to their starting position, only to be hit again.

"Da-Dad…" She mumbled with wide eyes as she walked into the room slowly with her gun held tightly in her hands.

"Go ahead, try it out. Make your old man proud." He smiled a little as she nodded and went to the lockers to begin.

James reflected on everything that's happened over the ten years he had with his daughter. She was brought into this world by two loving parents, but the world was cold and cruel, and had decided to take Catherine for its cheap jollies. He was taught to _never_ kick a man when he's down, but the world never grew up that way, and left him alone to care for their daughter.

How had he survived her upbringing? She rarely stirred a ruckus, which he was thankful for until trouble started brewing.

He had to laugh a bit. When it came to his daughter and trouble, when it rained, it poured; so to speak.

_Just like the time with the pudding catapult and the incident with Beatrice. Then, there was the fiasco of her super pencil during a history test, and __**then**__ with that elaborate saw sharpener she made for Andy._

That sharpener, he was _very_ displeased with. He was about to voice how much so, but if he had, she'd be missing a few fingers, if not her whole hand at this moment.

But that didn't faze her, no, nothing fazed his little soldier. She was just like her mother; brilliant, talented, determined, bold…_Passionate about her work…_

Catherine had a love for science. James had a love for science and medicine. Now, the fruit of their loins, Winona, was an inventor. He could not describe how happy he was when she brought to him the first blueprints she ever drew; it was going to be a pet she always wanted but could never have. She named it Gizmo, and of course, Gizmo was not only going to be her loyal friend, but her own personal ice cream dispenser.

She was too young to actually _create _such an intricate machine, but now, ten years old, he had known she was up all night working on the drafting model of Gizmo; for now, it would be a little robot that would keep her room tidy. It seemed to have the exact opposite effect when it spat up grease onto the wall and short-circuited. He tried to hold back a little chuckle as she groaned in frustration and returned to the drawing board.

He knew she'd bring Gizmo to life eventually.

James glanced down to the little strands of silver hair that fell out of place from her ribbon with every kickback the BB gun gave her little body; she was never that strong, and knowing her, she'd probably think of an invention to steady the recoil of the gun.

Her hair was genetics from his side of the family. It came from a depletion or complete absence of a certain chemical in the body that turned it silver-white. She was born with a thin layer of dark hair like her mother, but as she began to grow, it grew out white. There was nothing he could do to fix it, not like it was harming her in anyway, either. But it would be like that until she got very old and then it would return to its darkened state like the day she was born; unless high stress levels kicked in first, and he _never_ wanted it to come to that because of the world they were surrounded by.

Her vibrant eyes were from her mother. Every little calculating twitch, every fleck of concern or worry, even the violet inferno that dared ravage anything in her path when she was on an angered rampage or a determined stride; _all_ of it was like her mother.

But it pained James so to look into them and at times see Catherine, then at other times, see Winona; his beautiful baby girl…

Her coffee tones came from a balance of his caucasian complexion and her mother's dark chocolate skin.

He knew she'd become a gorgeous young woman one day, and he'd be there to fight off the hungry, grubby-pawed men of this Vault when their own hormones began to kick in. She didn't have much option to choose from with this little litter, either.

Familiar chittering of a tiny pest brought him out of his thoughts. He looked down to find it on the opposite side of the locker, safely away from Winona.

"It's a Radroach. I've never seen one so up close!" She cried with intrigue.

He chuckled softly. "It'll soon be one last roach to deal with. Just aim and shoot sweetheart."

James watched as she took care of it, no problem what so ever, and turned back to him with a broad grin on her face.

"That's the way to do it! How does your first kill feel?" He asked with a small smile.

"Hmn… Strange." Winona responded and looked up to him. "I feel kind of bad for killing it, though…"

"Don't be hun. Every little bit helps the Vault, _just like_ the Overseer says." He replied with a sigh. "Now then, here are the rules for your new gun."

"Dad," She whined, dragging on the 'a' to put emphasis. "I already _know_ the rules!"

"No taking it apart," He continued anyways.

"Check!"

"No modifying it so it can shoot faster, or shoot more at once."

"Aw, I wanted to do that…" She pouted slightly.

"No playing with it after lights out."

"Alright."

"And now, a few _new_ rules to add to your rulebook." James replied with his arms folded over his chest sternly, showing that he meant _serious_ business.

"Gah! _More?_" Winona cried.

"Yes, rules keep you safe. Rules keep everyone _else_ safe from your little inventions!" He joked playfully, uttering a laugh from his daughter. "Now then, you are never to shoot, or even _aim_ at another person-"

"Is Butch an exception?"

"_No."_

"Darnit…"

"You are to only shoot at Radroaches, and if you feel like practicing, you come down here to your little shooting range. You do not practice anywhere else, understood?"

She nodded quickly. "Yes dad."

"And whatever you do, don't go around showing off your gun. It's not a toy, someone could get seriously hurt. Just- _think_, before you act. Alright pumpkin?"

"Of course!" Winona ran over and hugged him tightly around the waist with one arm, the other holding her gun. "Thanks again dad…" She looked up at him. "I love you."

"I love you too, Nona." James leaned down and kissed the top of her head, then turned around to look at Jonas. "Hey, Jonas, take a picture of me with the big game hunter!" He smiled.

He nodded and walked out to grab something, momentarily coming back with a beat up camera in his gloved hands.

"Alright, look here!" Jonas called, tapping the camera lens.

Winona held her gun at her side, butt planted on the floor with her fingers wrapped around the barrel as her other hand came up to her hip. James stood behind her with his arm wrapped around her shoulders lovingly.

"Okay." Jonas held up the camera to his face. "Smile!"

Winona gave a broad grin while James gave one of his famous picture perfect smirks as the flash went off, reflecting off the walls to hit them in the eyes with a flash of pure, white light.


	5. CHP 5:  Winona, The Whammy Wonder

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: Heheh :D I kinda like how this chapter came up... More development with Winona and Butch! He's a little snotnose in this =_= Or more accurately- a little nosebleed :3 Read on to know what I mean! xD**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

* * *

><p>Known to all the Vault residents as <em>Officer<em> Gomez when he was on duty, "Mr. Gomez" suited him just fine as he coached the Vault's baseball team.

He whistled in disbelief, pushing his baseball cap back on his head with a hooked thumb as another ball was hit out of the ballpark. Or the large auditorium that they practiced in.

It soared out of the lower level and sailed over the high railing, bouncing around on the upper floor.

"Wow. Another home run, Whammy! Well done!" He looked down to the fourteen year old little leaguer.

Winona held the bat over her shoulder as she looked up to her coach, nodding in appreciation.

"Thank you." She mumbled quietly as she walked over to Freddie and handed him the bat.

When she had shown up to the tryouts, there was Butch, Wally, Paul, and Freddie; there were no other boys, and none of the girls wanted to sign up in fear of breaking a nail. Dorothy showed up, though, only to be Butch's clumsy cheerleader.

She remembered well what had happened when she walked in there; Butch called taunts at her as she strolled to the batter's box with that scuffed helmet on her head, telling her that she was going to choke, that girls weren't meant to play a man's sport, and that she should get back to the kitchen where she belonged.

But she proved him wrong, she proved them _all_ wrong when she hit the ball "out of the ballpark", and shattered the Overseer's window. That's how she gained the nickname "Whammy", and soon enough, everyone but her father and Amata called her that.

The Overseer was _not_ pleased, by the way.

Paul, Wally, and Freddie thought it was hilarious. Her father scolded her in front of the Overseer, but once they left his office and were alone in the hallways, he gave her a subtle high-five.

"I- I don't know if I can do this Whammy… What if I don't hit it that far? What if I hit myself in the back like I did the _last_ time we practiced?" Freddie worried himself into a sweating heap as he got up from the long bench.

She placed a reassuring hand on his broad shoulder and gave him a smile.

"Don't think about what you _can't_ do Freddie. Focus on what you _can_ do! What you can do, is give it your all. If you don't do so well, there's always another day to practice, and another day to try again. I'll even help you practice! Fair enough?"

He gave a small, shy smile and a nod to his personal coach as he unhurriedly jogged over to the batter's box.

Winona's dad told her one day that ever since she joined the baseball team and had been helping Freddie, his illness had gotten a bit better. He wasn't as self-conscious anymore, and his self-esteem strayed away from close-to-nothingness.

That made her feel good, knowing that she was helping someone.

Honestly, Freddie wasn't that bad of a baseball player, he did well enough with hitting and running around the bases, but he needed to work on his pitching. Winona was a little surprised when she saw him at the tryouts, but when she noticed that his father was the coach, she understood why.

Either he was forced into the sport because his father wanted him to stop moping, or he signed up so his father could be proud of him.

Mr. Gomez was _always_ proud of Freddie- but with his low self-esteem, he thought no one cared much about him.

Butch snorted with amusement as he chewed on his gum, blowing bubbles to have them pop before he repeated the process.

"You? Help Freddie the Freak practice batting? You're a _girl!_ You can't teach a guy anything!" He laughed as he fixed his cap, blowing another bright pink gum bubble.

"Then isn't it strange that I'm the girl, yet _you're_ the one pitching and batting like one, Butch?" She replied quietly and looked at him over her shoulder as the bubble burst and stretched over his face in a tacky mess, making her utter a chuckle.

Winona looked up just in time to see Freddie hit the ball, watching as it sailed over the railing to greet her own ball on the second floor.

"Whoa! Looks like you're getting competition, Whammy!" Mr. Gomez called as he ruffled his son's hair, mumbling words of satisfaction to him before ushering him away from the batter's box. "You're turn, Hannon!"

* * *

><p>Paul and Freddie exchanged seats, Winona giving the newer generation of the Gomez's a firm high-five.<p>

"_Told_ you that you could do it, Freddie." She beamed.

_Damnit. He was the only thing that kept me from looking __**completely**__ useless on this baseball team!_ Butch grumbled inwardly as he pulled the gum off his face and tossed it in the garbage.

He watched as a smile spread across Freddie's face while his cheeks turned a slight shade of pink.

It pissed him off that Freddie had a crush on Winona too, only because she gave him the time of day, while she gave Butch not even a little glance or a simple hello.

Well, mostly because he'd make a complete tool out of himself and tell her to take her freak show wagon somewhere else.

"Th-Thanks, Whammy… You really helped me. But I wouldn't mind it if you helped me practice, anyways?" Freddie gave her a small smile.

That question made Butch tense up. He didn't like the fact that some candy-pants freak was going to get some alone time with her; as the cliché goes, if he couldn't get her, _no one_ could. Or should.

Or maybe it was because Freddie had the courage to show his emotions while Butch hid behind a wall that was well camouflaged with the insults and crude looks he shot her way whenever they just happened to come across each other in the hallways.

Butch was bitter that ever since that day on her tenth birthday party, around four years ago, she had shown him up yet again. Yeah, he was pissed, but as he drifted off to sleep that night with a bandaged hand, he couldn't help but think about her. Then _dream_ about her!

He dreamt that they were sitting at one of the booths in the cafeteria, sharing a strawberry soda as she laughed at something clever he said.

He woke up in a flurry of mixed emotions; anger, despair, complete sullenness. A mess of frazzled nerves deep fried in two hours of restless sleep and coated with a light sprinkle of confusion.

In other words, he discovered that he had feelings for the strange girl, and he didn't quite know how to handle it. Not like he'd ever admit it to Wally or Paul- his reputation was a lot more important than some_ girl, _and because it was- quite frankly- a little embarrassing... What would they say if they found out that for the past four years, he's been using his bullying prowess to cover up how he actually felt about her?

He even once or twice thought that he should at least hint at how he felt, maybe even go as far as _tell_ her about his affection, but she showed no interest. So he stayed away from her to think over his options.

That's what bothered him. You could never tell what she was thinking, or feeling for that matter. She rarely showed him emotion, he was lucky if he even saw that little taunting smirk of hers _right_ before she foiled their pranks once again.

Winona tended to do that occasionally over the years. He was a bit appreciative of her little hindrances here and there; the feeling to be bad coursed through his bleeding veins. He was thankful that she always seemed to stop him at the very last second, before things could get even _more_ out of hand, and give her another reason to give him that dirty look like everyone else around him did.

But no matter what, she hadn't done that, _yet, _and he inwardly prayed that the day wouldn't come any time soon.

"Butch, watch out!" Mr. Gomez exclaimed, warning a _little_ too late, as a baseball hit him square in the face, sending him toppling backward off the bench.

* * *

><p>Winona began packing up the beaten duffle bag that held all of her baseball gear as she contemplated what she should do. She was exhausted, enough to fall straight to sleep the moment her head hit her fluffy pillow, but not enough to do so without taking a nice, hot shower. Her dilemma was either changing into clean clothes and falling asleep, or actually taking the twenty, thirty minute effort to shower, change, and <em>then<em> go to sleep.

She decided upon the latter as she looked up to see Butch with a bloodied cloth to his nose, his eyes sore and tired.

"How's your nose?" She asked softly as he plopped down on the bench next to her.

He gave her a cold glare. "What's it to _you?_"

_Sheesh, why does he have to be so rude? He got his nose broken and I just wanted to see if he's okay!_

She shrugged. "Just a simple question." She looked up to the bloody cloth once again.

_It would be a lot easier for the flow of blood to stop if he tilted his head back…_

Winona began stretching her hand out. "Here, I can help you."

Butch saw her oncoming gesture and swung his arm out. "Don't touch me, spazz!"

His swift arm connected with her flat stomach and sent her gliding over the bench and onto the metal floor with a hard thud. She landed on her side, and she knew she'd have a bruise or two in the morning.

_H-He… __**Hit**__ me!..._

Winona winced as she slowly sat up, looking at Butch with impassive eyes as she turned over to sit with her legs stretched in front of her, hands propped behind her to hold up her body.

She didn't want to show that he did hit her pretty hard. Not like it mattered, if she told him, he would have just laughed at her or told her to stop being a little wimp.

The last time he tried to hit her was at her tenth birthday party four years ago. His attempt was repelled with his fist hurdling into the screen of her Pip-Boy, and he never tried to physically hurt her again.

But she guessed that she was more surprised that he struck her after all this time, over something so small, then the pain in her hip and stomach gave a dull string of ache through her body.

"I just wanted to help," She replied in a low tone. "You didn't have to lay your hand on me."

Winona caught his stare quickly turn away from her to gaze at the ground, but she knew that he didn't feel bad. Butch Deloria _never_ felt bad about _anything_ he did.

So why did he look away?

"Well, who said you could touch me?" He retorted.

She gave a deep sigh of impatience as she picked herself up off the floor, grabbing her duffle bag and swung it over her shoulder once again.

"No one did, I guess."

* * *

><p>Butch glared burning holes of anger into the floor as Winona picked herself up and hastily grabbed her bag, throwing it onto a boney shoulder.<p>

Why had he done that, exactly? He didn't know why he felt the need to, he could have just jumped up to get away from her or slid down the bench. But no, he had to physically _hurt_ her instead.

Smooth…

He was more afraid of her actually touching him. He didn't want to like her anymore, and he didn't want her obliviously adding fuel to the fire. But in his wrapped up little package of fear, this was how he lashed out, by _literally_ lashing out at her.

"No one did, I guess." She replied a little solemnly.

Damn. _This_ was it, the thing that would completely destroy any chance he had of telling her how he felt, creating the new reality they would share on two different wavelengths. Now until forever, she'd be giving him dirty glares like everybody else.

Why, oh why, oh _why?_

He almost leapt off the bench in surprise as a silver package wrapped in a small white towel was tossed into his lap.

"That's a medical icepack. My dad gave me a few in case I got injured in baseball."

Butch was afraid to look up at her, not wanting to see that judgmental look in her eyes.

"Crush the little packet inside the icepack and shake it up until it turns cold. Press it against the bridge of your nose, tilt your head back, and use the hand towel to catch the blood. It's better than the dirty rag you're using right now. The bleeding will stop faster."

"I don't care!" Butch exclaimed, throwing the packet at the floor. "Just leave me alone you weirdo!"

He couldn't comprehend why he just snapped at her. He could have kept quiet and waited till she left, then secretly used the packet- along with her instructions- and tended to his nose. But again, no, he had to trip himself up _once_ again by making an ass of himself when she was only trying to help.

Butch slightly looked up to see Winona amble over to the packet and pick it up along with the towel, walking back over and placing it on the bench next to him.

Purple, emotionless eyes met confused, blue eyes.

"You know," She mumbled. "Your life would be a lot easier if you just stopped acting like you know everything."

…So that's what she thought of him. She thought that he was just some cocky sleaze ball that could only talk the talk, and not walk the walk. She thought he was an overconfident jock strap!

She had made his decision for him. He would never breathe a word of adoration towards her.

"Get out of here Whammy, and leave me alone." He replied coldly as he stared back down to the floor.

Butch's chest ached as she gave another frustrated sigh and turned away, walking out of the auditorium with the sound of the door sliding open and shut.

"D- _Damnit…_" He muttered under his breath angrily as he grabbed the package, following Winona's advice to have it suddenly chill in his hands as he pressed it to the bridge of his nose with a cringe of pain shocking his face.

He tried to look at the bright side. Maybe, this way, it would be quicker to get over her if she just stayed away and stopped trying to help him all the damn time.

* * *

><p>Winona bit her lip to keep from saying anything else to Butch, to keep her hand from jolting out and slamming against the door console to keep it from closing and look back at him, shrieking angrily till her lungs turned as purple as her eyes.<p>

There was _so_ much more that she wanted to say to him. She was irritated out of her mind to see him reject every kind advance she made towards him; no matter how many peace treaties she signed, wrapped in a pretty bow, and shipped to him with a lovely care package, he always threw them back in her face. Treaty torn up, pretty bow stomped on and ruined, her care package empty- all of its contents reaped without a mere hush of a thank you.

Her father sometimes talked about war; two sides, butting heads, fighting for what they believed in because in their eyes, they were right, when in the opposer's eyes, they were wrong. But this- this little _charade_ she's had with Butch for all these years couldn't be called a war. It was her, trying to be kind to him, only to have him refuse, and adding insult to injury, spit in her face. This wasn't war- this was a dead end. A pointless point. A lost cause. A complete and utter _headache_ retching her tired mind into aching pieces.

Need she continue with how many other things she could use to compare this situation with?

What frustrated her more than his macho man stride was how she continued coming back with this treaty and this bow and this care package, always offering another chance for friendship when she _knew_, she would _always_ know, that he could never accept it.

After all, how could he set down his mask when he needed both hands to hold it up?

One hand would be needed to shake hers, while the other signed the treaty in agreement. He refused to give in and let his mask smile cruelly, while his own lips held a frown of despair.

She could see through him as clear as crystal.

But Winona knew that he couldn't do that to himself, or his reputation. He couldn't let himself down by wussing out and giving into her by raising his white flag. It would mean he would have to run away and find a nice hole to hide in with his mangy tail firmly tucked between his legs.

"I'm home, dad!" She called as the door to her humble abode slid open to welcome her into its warm atmosphere, relaxing away her tense muscles with a soothing relief as she kicked off her boots and placed her duffle bag next to them, closing the door behind her.

She had come up with _another_ term to compare and contrast to her situation with Butch. It was quite simple, really.

_Boys will simply be __**just**__ that. Boys._

Or better yet, _Butch will always be just- __**Butch**__._

She gave a deep sigh, before calling out; "You should get down to the auditorium, dad. And take your medical kit with you!"

* * *

><p><strong>ROFL Butch called himself an overconfident jock strap x3 I kinda LOL'd when I wrote that ._." (So immature, I KNOOOOOOW!)<strong>

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you did, or would like to leave some HELPFUL criticism, don't be afraid to leave a thoughtful review for yours truly! ^^ Thank you all!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**


	6. CHP 6: It's Like Riding On A GOAT

"Just as I thought," Her father chuckled lightheartedly as he took the bud of his stethoscope away from her back, taking it from his ears and draping the cord over the back of his neck.

"Why are you laughing?" Winona looked up at her father. "Do I have pneumonia? Cancer? _Gout?_" She joked.

"If you think being a healthy sixteen year old girl to be similar to gout, then yes, you have it."

"Oh no! Tell me! Will I make it to Christmas, doc? I needa see Johnny one last time!" She hopped off the examination table, the sterile paper under her crinkled and cracked as she shifted.

Her father chuckled deeply. "You'll make it to Christmas hun, but you _won't_ make it to your G.O.A.T. exam if you don't hurry."

She sighed and fixed her short French braid. "Whatever you say, dad." She huffed.

"Hey! It's not my call," He countered in a hardhearted voice as he got up from his rolling stool. "You will go to your G.O.A.T. exam and you will do your best. Lord knows I don't want your dear mother haunting me because her only child became a- a _garbage burner_, or worked in the cafeteria, saying "would you like a cup of pudding with your meal?"

Silence had fallen, weighing heavily on the shoulders of the good doctor and his like-minded, inventor of a daughter. It had been a while since they talked about… _Her._ Talking about her mother was a taboo subject at most times, only because the only time her deceased mother's words were spoken was through her father, used to get Winona to behave.

Such lines as "What would your mother say?" or "Do you think your mother would be proud of you if you did this, Nona?" Stabbed through her soul like a serrated blade heated into the nether regions of angst as her heart wrenched into a million sharp pieces. Only lately, in the past four or five years, did these words send Winona into a mess of sobs and hiccups.

But this time, she couldn't follow the pleads of silence that created the hulking pit in her stomach as she spun around to face her father. She had to follow after her mother.

"Can we talk about- _you know…_ Mom?" Winona spoke in a voice that she very rarely used around anyone; a voice of fear.

He sighed and looked down at her. "Your mother… She is- was- a beautiful woman. She was passionate about everything. About life, about love, about her work… But most _importantly,_" He placed gentle hands on her shoulders. "She was passionate about you."

Winona could feel her lower lip quiver as her father's arms wrapped around her bouncing shoulders, her face diving into his chest as her trembling hands grasped the front of his jumpsuit. She was crying; something she only did in front of her father. It was a sacred right that only he possessed.

"There are things that those old pictures can never show you. But that's okay," He pulled her back to wipe her eyes dry and gave her a reassuring smile as he tilted her chin up to him. "Because you are just like your mother in every way I can possibly imagine."

She hiccupped a little and brought a shaky hand up to her eyes, wiping them as well. "Th-Thanks, dad…"

"Anything for you my darling." A bug looking robot fluttered up onto her shoulder and rested, poking at her cheek with its nose. It was about the size of a computer mouse, if not a smidge bigger.

Her father chuckled. "I think Widget is telling you to get to class. She wouldn't want you to miss your big test."

"Nice try dad," She nuzzled the little bug creature with her cheek. "She's telling me she's hungry. But I'm on my way, so don't worry about it."

"Excellent. Good-bye honey, and good luck." He gave her a peck on the forehead for good luck as she strolled out of the room, Widget hovering after her into the hallway.

"And I would like to meet this Johnny fellow!" He called jokingly as the door slid shut.

"So, do you think this G.O.A.T. thing is going to be the _bee's knees,_ huh, Widget?" She looked up to the little machine with the rapidly flapping tin wings that hovered a few inches above her shoulder.

She gave a few beeps of disapproval as she turned the corner with Winona.

She chuckled. "I don't think so either. But who knows? Maybe it isn't as bad as we think."

Widget gave another beep of disapproval.

Winona modeled her little companion after something she saw in a pre-war children's book. The book was called "Larry the Ladybug", and it was something about a ladybug trying to find a nice leaf to eat. Widget had six legs and a large torso with tin wings that would spread apart and flap so she could fly around. She also had a bubbly bobble head with antennas that could help her sense where she was flying; Winona had yet to figure out a way to give Widget sight, so she sometimes slammed into walls when she got really excited.

But Widget was able to express emotion very well, and seemed to show her own personality, giving Winona hope that maybe one day she could create a voice box for the little machine so she could talk.

If only, if only.

But her inventor thoughts slammed into an abrupt wall as she looked up to see Wally, Paul, and Butch crowded around Amata, effectively blocking her way. She could see her childhood friend hug herself for comfort as the boys kept spurring on insults and dirty threats.

Widget clicked in anger.

"I'll handle this, Widget, don't worry about it. But for now, you need to go into shutdown state. Mr. Brotch can't see you hovering around me while I'm doing my test." Winona let her hair out of her French braid and raked her thin fingers through her short mane, shaking it out.

Widget beeped in disapproval and quickly soared away.

"What? _Widget!_ Get back here!" She chased after her toy, watching as it crawled across the floor behind Wally and slowly, but surely, tied his shoelaces together.

_What is she __**doing?**_Winona panicked as she watched from her spot in the dim shadows by the corner, looking on as Widget carefully tied up Paul's shoelaces as well and looked up to her creator with a click of her metal tongue.

She smiled and gave a quick nod; she knew what she had to do and stepped out from the shadows into the open hallway.

"Butch, leave Amata alone." She warned.

Butch looked up with that stupid grin on his face as he leaned into the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Shut your trap, squirt. I've got business with your little friend."

"Leave me alone, Butch!" Amata cried, hugging herself tighter.

"Or what? How about we go to the utility closet, and I'll show you a _real_ Tunnel Snake, Amata?"

_Oh, please. It's probably a pathetic little worm…_

The Overseer's daughter wrinkled her nose in disgust and backed away from him as Paul and Wally urged him on.

"You show her, Butch!" Wally exclaimed.

Winona snorted impassively and softly folded her arms over her almost non-existent chest. "Last time I'm warning you, Butch."

"Last time I'm telling _you_! Get. _Lost._ Squirt." He retorted.

She sighed and pulled her signature black ribbon from her pocket, her fingers intertwining around it.

Amata slowly began to drop her arms to her sides and chuckled, smiling up to Butch.

"_Now_ you're gonna get it, "Serpent King."

"Get what?" Paul asked worriedly.

Winona slowly tied her hair back with the ribbon as her razor straight bangs fell over her light eyes. As she grew older, their boldness drained from a vibrant purple to a stunning lavender that made her look sophisticated as her pronounced cheekbones filled out her face, her once thin lips plump and pink. She still had her straight nose, courtesy of her mother.

If only she could say good things about her boyish figure and her on the borderline of flat chest… Damn her father's side for having late bloomers! But she was glad she came from a long line of perfect, radiant skin. She silently thanked her mother for that every day she woke up without the head of a growing pimple on her smooth face.

"What are you doing, freak?" Butch asked curiously.

All Winona did was give that shy smirk of hers, something else that was signature, because it only showed itself when she was about to hand the Tunnel Snakes their just desserts.

Widget squealed out with excitement as she grabbed the hem of Wally's leather jacket, hauling it up over his head.

"_Hey!_ What's going on?" He cried with fear.

In an effort to regain composure and his bearings, he tried to step forward, his tied together boots falling perfectly into place of Widget's plan as he hitched forward onto Paul.

Paul tried to jump into action as well, but his own tampered boots foiled his efforts as he fell forward too. A thick thud strung high in the air as their foreheads clashed together, another thud followed as they fell to the floor in a heap of confused faces and tossed limbs.

"Wh-What the _hell?_" Butch exclaimed as he looked up to Winona with wide eyes and an open mouth.

He realized the cause of the problem when Widget crawled out of Wally's jacket and fluttered over to her, landing on her shoulder and beeped colorfully.

Winona giggled. She knew that if she gave the little creature the blessing of a voice box, she'd have _quite_ the potty mouth on her.

As the two boys on the floor collected themselves, untying shoelaces, fixing their hair, straightening out their clothes, they both got up and looked to Butch for a course of action.

All he did was grimace, narrowing his eyes at her.

He finally turned his stare away and scoffed in frustration.

"C'mon boys, this broad ain't worth wastin' our time." He leisurely strolled into the little classroom.

Paul followed obediently, but Wally gave her a wrathful glare, pointing an accusing finger at Widget.

"You're lucky, you bucket of rotting tin! Wait until later, I'm going to wring your little neck!" He exclaimed with a dribble of blood rolling down his sweaty forehead.

Widget seemed to give a throaty growl as she fluttered off of Winona's shoulder, aiming for Wally's large nose, but was held back by her creator pinching her wins together to keep her from flying.

"We'll keep that in mind, Wally. Good luck on your exam." She replied smoothly.

He grumbled profanities and other usherings under his breath as he sauntered into the classroom as well.

Winona walked over to Amata with all due haste. "You okay?"

"Yeah… Thanks for getting rid of them." She nodded. "Assholes…" She muttered in an angry breath, causing her friend to laugh.

"I don't know why they won't leave me alone! Just because I'm the Overseer's daughter I guess? _Idiots!_" She shook her head and looked up to Widget, smiling warmly. "Thank you too, Widget." She leaned over and pecked her on the head.

Widget flickered up from Winona's thin shoulder with a swoon of whirs, before spiraling down into a nosedive to the floor in a little crash, legs twitching.

"Uh, is she okay?" Amata pointed down to the little robot, looking back up at Winona.

She nodded with a chuckle. "She's emotional today, and apparently _very_ hard of hearing." She picked up Widget by her wings and pressed down on one of her blind eyes, watching as the machine fell limply in her hands and she carefully placed her in her pocket.

"Ready for the exam?" She asked tiredly.

"As I'll ever be!" Winona chuckled, walking ahead of her into the classroom.

* * *

><p>"Butch! I think my nose is broken!" Wally lightly touched his nose, wincing, before looking back to his leader. "Butch?"<p>

But the Serpent King's thoughts were somewhere else at the moment. More specifically, his thoughts were circled around the way he could get back at Winona for her little misgiving.

The only thing that came to mind was crushing the dear life out of her precious little _pest_.

"Butch?"

"Is your nose bleedin'?" He replied, not even bothering to look back to his underling.

"Uh...No, just hurts."

"Then it ain't broken." He looked back at him over his shoulder, watching as Amata and Winona filtered into the classroom and took their seats.

_That snobby little goody two shoes... Thinks she __**runs**__ this place. Well she don't! The Tunnel Snakes do!_

Shortly after his fifteenth birthday, his affectionate tugs and twitches for the inventor died away. He thanked himself for it, because now, _nothing_ would hold him back from completely laying out plans for pranks and causing trouble for the Overseer.

He looked up to see Dorothy walk into the room, giving him a smug grin with a lollipop between her thin lips. She _also_ helped get rid of the little twitches he had for Winona. Dorothy's body offered a lot more to play with compared to the inventor's; Winona's sides were still straight in a boy-like figure, her tits couldn't even be _called_ tits, and she didn't have much to stare at when she'd turn around to make an exit.

As Dorothy got into her preteen years, her curls calmed down and she resorted to fluffing her hair up; she found a picture of how she wanted it _exactly_ from a pin-up magazine her father had. She had a few slight dimples of curves in her sides, and a tolerable pair, but Butch thought they could have been bigger. She always had a lollipop or a toothpick in her mouth, and her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket.

The leather jacket was from him. She was sort of like his, well, he didn't know _what_ to call what they had going on. They weren't dating (although she believed they were) so she definitely wasn't his girlfriend.

Maybe something fun to play with?

They hadn't gone all the way yet, although he had Wally and Paul thinking they did. The farthest they've gone was her hand taming his- erm... _Tunnel snake._

"Hey," He smirked to her as she walked over and sat in his lap, wrapping her arm around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

After a few minutes of a healthy game of tonsil hockey, she pulled back for a breath of air and to give him a smile, her red lipstick smeared on her lips.

"Aw, I got some lipstick on you!" She giggled nasally, quickly wiping it off with her thumb and offered her lollipop.

Butch nodded and she popped it in his mouth. "Thanks, Dolly." He gave her ass a light squeeze.

That was _another_ thing that bothered him; it could barely be called an ass, but it was still there. More so than Winona's.

He wasn't picky when it came to dames; just as long as they were quiet up until he hauled them off to the bedroom, and as long as they had a utopia of a body for his eyes to praise, and they were good at cooking. He didn't like anything better than a half naked broad giving him a nice, home cooked meal.

When he and Dorothy started "dating", Butch resorted to calling her Dolly instead of Dorothy. When she asked why, he said it was because she was his doll face, when in truth, it was because she wore so much makeup she looked as plastic as a china doll.

He didn't mind, he needed a nice piece of eye candy hanging off his arm.

Butch gave a mischievous smirk as her hand brushed against his crotch.

He also needed some eye candy hanging off his _hips_.

"Deloria, Horowitz, this is an _educational_ learning environment," Mr. Brotch called from the front of the room with his hands on his hips. "There is nothing educational about the show you're putting on for the other students."

Butch gave him a sharp look, but Dolly simply smiled and pecked him on the cheek, whispering in his ear.

"I'll be back for _you_ later!" She giggled, getting up and walking to her seat.

_Dolly was annoying when we were kids, still sorta is, but she definitely makes up for it behind closed doors._ He thought as he folded his arms behind his head and leaned back into his chair.

* * *

><p>"Hmn. A Pip-Boy programmer?" Mr. Brotch spoke as he looked down to Winona's results and then looked back up to her. "Looks like Stanley will finally have someone to talk shop with."<p>

She smiled, already brainstorming new ideas to program into the Pip-Boys.

Mr. Brotch raised a worried eyebrow at her. "I know you're an inventor Whammy, which is why I'm worried about you being in this career track..."

Winona cocked her head, the smile still on her face. "Would you prefer I be a laundry cannon operator?"

He froze in his seat and gave her a nervous chuckle. "No, not really."

"C'mon, _move_, Winona! I wanna see my test results!" Amata bounced behind her in the lineup.

"Sorry," She turned back to her teacher. "Enjoy the rest of your day Mr. Brotch." Then turned to wait at her desk for her friend.

As she played with her short ponytail, her mind wandered off to Widget in her pocket, and she fingered the little bot through the fabric of her jumpsuit. While Winona was getting older, Widget would have to stay home, and she didn't like being put into shutdown state for so many hours. But she couldn't be left running, either; the last time Winona made that mistake, Widget turned their home upside down finding something to do with her boredom.

For a while now she had been working on a blueprint for a little playmate for Widget. She would name it Gizmo, after the pet she wanted when she was a child.

She smiled at the thought; it would be a challenge. She wanted to turn Gizmo into the _biggest_ project she had ever faced! Gizmo was to be an animal, like Widget, but she just didn't know which one, yet… She'd have to look at her science textbook and brainstorm.

"Winona! I'm on the supervisory track!" Amata squealed as she ran over to her friend.

"Really? Amata, that's great!" She stood up and gave her friend a congratulatory hug. "This calls for a celebration; burgers and shakes, on me!"

Her friend giggled. "Good. I'm _starving!_ Let's go grab some lunch."

Winona nodded in agreement and walked after her friend. As they were deep in conversation over Widget and her plans for Gizmo, infuriated roars halted their talking to a shocked stop and they spun their heads around to the noise.

"I'm a _hairdresser?_" Butch yelled from the classroom.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I LOL'd SOOO hard when I first played Fallout 3 and I got to the G.O.A.T. exam, and Butch was bitching about being a hairdresser.<strong>

**Karma's a bitch, no?**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoyed being introduced to Widget the ladybug bot, and the teenage version of Dorothy "Dolly" Horowitz! I like how this story is going so far... So I hope all my readers do, too ^_^**

**Don't forget to review! Because reviews make Dolly chew your ear off and Widget sad ... You know you love Widget too much to not leave a review! D: So please, press the pretty review button below :3**

**~Konfessionist out!~**


	7. CHP 7:  Inventor Talk Gives Me Headaches

Dolly kept her hand tightly clasped onto Butch's, fingers intertwined as they walked down the hallway before they turned a corner and he firmly pressed her against the wall by her hips mischievously, brushing her hair from her shoulder to suck on her neck.

"Oh, Butchie…" She wailed, gasping slightly with a nasally snort of a giggle when he pulled down the tab of her vault suit's zipper slightly to go lower and suck roughly on her collar bone. "You're so _bad._" She giggled shrilly as he came back up to eye-level with her.

"Only for you, Dolly." He replied proudly, leaning in to kiss her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, quietly moaning into his mouth when his hands caressed her thighs and he lowered his mouth to her neck again, returning to biting it.

Dolly's moaning stopped, and he looked up at her to see her eyes staring over his shoulder.

"What's wrong sweet cheeks?" He grinned smugly. "Is the Butch-Man too much for 'ya?"

"The-There's someone in the diner." She murmured, pointing over his shoulder at the window across from where they were positioned against the wall.

Butch looked over to see that Dolly was right- someone was sitting at one of the booths in the darkness of the diner, the jukebox blaring the shitty tunes the Overseer was playing on some stupid loop.

"Are they watching us, Butchie?" She asked worriedly.

"Nah," He replied in a quiet tone, his voice sounding as if his mind were somewhere else. His curiosity was peaked to see who was sitting in a dark diner at- he looked to his Pip-Boy- 2:37 in the morning.

"I'm gonna go check it out, Dolly." Butch spoke as he looked back to her. "Go on back to your ma."

"But _Butchie_!" Dolly complained, voice turning nasally again.

"I said go home." He replied strictly with a half-lidded gaze of uninterested attention on her.

She scoffed. "You're _ditching _me for some stranger?"

He shrugged and made his way to the diner. "I just found somethin' more interesting is all."

"Butch you can be _such _a jerk, sometimes!" She exclaimed angrily, stomping away and turning the corner to leave his sights.

Butch allowed himself a deep sigh of final peace and quiet as he slapped his hand to the door console and it slid open, the darkness of the diner creating a shadowed line on the floor that separated itself from the light of the Vault 101's hallways.

They were always on as brightly as they could shine- day or night. Thank God all the windows had blinds.

He stepped in and let the door slide shut behind him, turning his sights back to whoever sat at the booth.

The person looked up over his/her shoulder to gaze at him, and he knew who it was the moment lavender eyes met his.

Butch groaned. "Great. I just missed something _fun _to do just 'cause you was sittin' in here."

"It was your choice to come in here…" Winona countered quietly, turning back to look down at something she had on the table.

He grimaced at her answer, but now that he had nothing better to do, he might as well bother her; so he leisurely strolled to the table with his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket. He stopped at the table's side to see a large sheet of gridded paper unfurled in front of her, an eraser in one hand with a pencil scribbling away at a notepad with another. Several different electronic parts and pieces of scrap metal held down the curled edges of the grid paper so it wouldn't roll up.

"Uh," He raised an uncertain eyebrow. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Taking notes." She replied casually, tucking the pencil behind her ear and gazed up at him.

"For what?" Butch asked curiously as he sat down and grabbed for one of the pieces of scrap metal, turning it over and over several times in his hands to examine it.

"Something I'm working on…" Winona's eyes darted away from his as she grabbed the part from his hand. "Is there something that you needed?"

"Nah, just wanted to see what my favorite gal was up to." He rejoined sarcastically, putting his feet up onto the table to cross them at the ankle and folded his arms behind his head.

She continued her work with no reaction in her expression. "If that's true then I can direct you where Dolly is, because she certainly isn't here." She countered as she pulled for her pencil and continued jotting down notes.

"Aw, now that hurts Whammy," Butch clutched his chest as if it began hurting. "That _really _hurts."

"I meant no offense to you, Deloria." She turned to the gridded paper, worrying her lower lip till it turned just as white as her teeth with undivided concentration. "I just assumed you were confusing me for Dolly."

"Goin' by last names, huh?" He snorted, shifting his boots over so they were blocking her vision from the large scroll of grid paper. "C'mon, I thought we were all friends here!"

Winona gave a sigh. "I'm sensing sarcasm in your voice," And her eyes flickered up to him. "Would you place remove your feet so I can continue working?"

"Not until you tell me what you're doin' out in the diner at 3 in the morning. Waitin' on your _boyfriend _Freddie the Freak?"

"I'm not waiting on anyone, and Freddie is not my boyfriend. Would you please move your feet?" She asked again, just as monotonely.

"_You're still not tellin' me what you're doin' down here._" Butch replied in a singsong voice.

"I'm only going to ask you one more time. Please _remove_ your feet so I can continue working."

"You didn't answer my question," He countered smugly.

"And I don't feel that I have to," Winona replied as her hand reached over to grip his ankle.

"Hey, what are 'ya- _Agh!_" Butch winced as her thumb pressed to his ankle and a strange pain shot up his leg, causing him to recoil them underneath the table. It was the type of pain you got when your foot fell asleep and you were trying to wake it up- it was a prickly ache, and it felt downright strange.

"Thank you." She spoke softly, starting to sketch with light lines on the grid paper.

"How'd you do that?" He asked, stomping his foot on the ground repeatedly to rid his leg of the bizarre sting.

"Do what?"

"This," He motioned to his afflicted leg under the table. "You did somethin' weird. I wanna know how you did it!"

"It's a secret," Winona replied quietly, looking up at him. "Are you going to continue bothering me or are you going to go find Dorothy?"

"I had _no_ idea that I was botherin' 'ya, Whammy." Butch replied innocently, grabbing for an electronic part to toss it back and forth between his hands like a ball.

The inventor gave a deep sigh and squeezed the bridge of her nose, dropping her pencil onto the table.

"I can't think with you here…" She murmured with irritation, much to his delight. "Alright, if I tell you what I'm working on, will you stop bothering me?"

"Maybe," He rejoined with a toothy grin.

"A "maybe" is good enough for me…" She murmured as she grabbed for a roll of paper next to her on the booth cushion, laying it on the table and yanked the rubber band off to lay it out for him.

"What the hell is this?" He laughed, grabbing for it. "It looks like a kid's drawing!"

It _certainly _looked like a poorly drawn picture of a cow- or a strange lizard, he couldn't quite tell which. Different parts were labeled on it, arrows pointing to each of them but the only wording he could make out on it was "Ice Cream Dispenser".

"Those are blueprints I made when I was…" Winona took a moment to think of her answer. "Four or five, I believe. Somewhere around there."

"Blueprints? For a crappy ice cream machine?" Butch snorted with cruel amusement, tossing the paper back onto the table.

She shook her head and carefully rolled it up, twisting the rubber band onto it. "When I was younger, I wanted a pet dog like I had seen in books from before the war. Due to no animals being down here because the Vault was sealed up before the bombs fell, I decided I was going to build it." She waved the blueprints at him. "This was my sketch for it."

"Is that what the flyin' bug is? Your pet?" He arched an eyebrow.

"You mean Widget?" Winona asked, tucking her hand into her pocket to pull out the little robot and show it to him. It lay lifeless in her hand, legs sprawled over the edges of her palm.

He never got a good look at the thing before, he'd seen it once or twice darting around the hallways with Winona but the thing was too damn fast to get a good look at. It looked similar to Larry the Ladybug from a child's book he saw when he was little- but this one was made of metal and stuff.

He honestly thought the little robot was actually kind of cool; not that he'd ever tell her that.

"You _seriously_ built that?" Butch asked skeptically, pointing down at it. It was a far cry from the blueprints of her ice cream machine.

"I did build her, but this isn't Gizmo." She explained.

"What the hell is a Gizmo?" He scratched his head, immediately making sure his hair wasn't messed up when he was done.

Winona waved the poorly drawn blueprints a little. "I named my pet Gizmo. Widget was originally supposed to help me clean my room, but she's better at destroying things." She smiled slightly.

That caught Butch by surprise, seeing her smile in front of him. He seriously doubted for all these years that she genuinely knew how- but there it was, plain as day.

"Anyways, I'm working on a redrawing of Gizmo's blueprints, like an update on it. I'm planning on bringing him to reality soon."

"Wait, you're gonna build a walkin' ice cream machine?" Butch raised a black eyebrow.

"Gizmo's not going to be an ice cream dispenser anymore- it isn't practical." Winona shrugged and jotted down a quick note on her notepad. "It was a dream from a little girl, and now I want to do something bigger. Something _better._"

"Like what?" He asked curiously. This stuff was actually kind of interesting- not like he'd be able to build something like Widget, or whatever this Gizmo thing was gonna be, but he thought it was sort of cool that Winona had the know-how to do that.

The moment he asked that question, she looked up over her shoulder through the window to see if anyone was coming, or watching, and turned back to him.

"Gizmo's still going to be a pet, but I want him to be the _biggest _project I've ever created. I plan on making him an animal, instead of an insect like Widget. But I'm going to have to be careful about it or the Overseer is going to come thundering down on me…" She frowned a little.

Butch scoffed and rolled his eyes, tucking his hands back into the leather pockets of his jacket. "It can't be that bad, he hasn't done anything 'bout your bug, has he?"

Winona shook her head. "Nothing big, but he has tried to toss her into the furnace before. Amata stopped him, thankfully." She began sketching again on the large piece of grid paper, Widget's lifeless body laying next to her hand which was clutching her eraser. "Gizmo is going to be a pretty big project compared to Widget, so it will be harder for him to ignore."

"What are 'ya gonna make it?" He asked curiously.

Without removing her eyes or her drawing hand from her work, she grabbed for something on the booth next to her and tossed it to him.

"I want Gizmo to look like this,"

Butch grabbed for the paper that drifted to the table top and gave a good, hard look at it when his eyes widened and almost popped out of his skull in horrified realization.

"Holy _crap!_" He exclaimed fearfully, dropping it back to the table to gaze up at her with wide eyes. "That's a fuckin' _wolf!_"

It was a picture that seemed to be photocopied from their science textbooks- he remembered because they did a small section on something about relationships animals had with other animals. The wolves were featured in a "competitive" relationship as an example, meaning that they would fight with another wolf for food or something like that. He couldn't quite remember the scientific definition for it, nor did he care much at all.

"Yeah, so?" Winona asked with a cock of her head.

"Wolves _eat _people, Whammy! What if it tries to kill us all?" Butch yelled, stabbing a finger at the picture.

She arched her eyebrows together with disbelief and her jaw lowered a little.

"You're kidding, right?" She asked dubiously.

"Does it _look like_ I'm laughin'?" He pointed at his twisted expression.

Winona smiled a little, covering her mouth as if to halt her giggles. "Butch, Gizmo is going to be a _robotic _wolf… But I'll make sure he won't be set to "kill and devour anything in sight", _just for you_."

Butch grimaced at her lighthearted joking and folded his arms over his chest. "Shuddup."

She shrugged, returning to her sketch. "Now then, are you going to leave and return to Dorothy?"

"I'll leave, but I'm _not_ goin' back to-" He halted his lips from speaking further. _Wait- she said return… _"How did 'ya know I was with Dolly?"

"I heard you molesting her outside." Winona replied bluntly, eyes flickering up from her blueprints. "Couldn't you find a utility closet to swap spit in, or something? You could have been spotted in the hallways from one of the Overseer's guards."

"Aw, you worried one of the big bad guards is gonna take me away from 'ya, Whammy?" Butch mocked, his gaze turning into a half-lidded stare of amusement.

"Hardly." She spoke with a straight face, absent of any emotion- as usual. "Now back to my question. I've enjoyed or lovely quality time together, but are you going to leave, now?"

"I said _maybe_." He replied in a low tone, arms folding over his chest as he propped his feet up on the booth next to her, feet again folded at the ankles. "Maybe I don't feel like goin' just yet."

Winona sighed. "Are you _always_ this difficult, Deloria?"

"Back to last names, 'ey Parker?" His grin widened even more as she winced.

"Fine, _Butch,_" She replied tersely, getting up and beginning to collect her things. "Then I'll leave if _you_ refuse to."

Butch frowned at that- there was nothing he could do to bug her now. What would he do, follow her down the hallways till she got home singing "Goody two shoes" over and over again like he did when he saw her walking the hallways?

He did that before- she didn't show much emotion, and he had to play all nicey-nice when her father caught him shadowing her in the hallways.

Now _that_ was an awkward situation to slither his way out of.

But he managed to do it, just like he always does somehow.

And then, content whistling and heavy footsteps caught on his ears.

"_Get down!_" Winona hissed, dropping to a crouch on the floors and yanked him down by a leather clad shoulder so his face smacked down against the booth cushions.

If he hadn't heard the booted footsteps, he would have immediately sprang up and yelled at her for touching him and messing up his hair or something. He simply pivoted his head to gaze up at the window, but instead caught Winona gazing back at him.

"Whammy, what're 'ya-"

"_Shhh._" She replied soothingly, pressing a finger to her lips and freezing up when the diner door slid open.

"Is someone in here?" A voice called out.

Widened blue eyes stared into widened lavender eyes- and they could each see how nervous and tense the other was.

But when the door slid shut, and seconds later footsteps trailed away, Winona gave a relieved sigh and Butch began to laugh.

"_That _was close!" He exclaimed proudly, sitting back up to stare at her. "My hair better be okay or I'ma wallop you, weirdo."

"It's still in that ridiculous hair-do, don't worry Butch." She replied shortly as she got up and continued collecting her things. "You've got enough hair gel to stop a speeding bullet…"

"Heh," He scoffed haughtily, gazing at Widget as her lifeless body rolled across the table and into his lap when Winona pulled up the gridded paper to begin rolling up.

The inventor's muscles seemed to contract with fear and her face paled when he picked up the toy, turning it every which possible way he could to observe it.

"Is this thing sick 'er somethin'?" Butch asked curiously, poking her face. "Why's it not movin'?"

"Bu-Butch," She stammered fearfully, outstretching a slightly shaking hand. "Could you please give her back?..."

He caught the way her demeanor changed and he looked back down to Widget in her hands, recalling the incident that happened about a year ago on the day of the G.O.A.T. exam with Wally and Paul and the little metal nuisance.

She was afraid he was going to do something… Maybe break it.

Then, his grin deepened with amusement. Finally- something entertaining…

"Nah, I think I' gonna keep it." Butch replied, tossing it into the air to catch her again.

"Don't!" Winona pleaded, trying to take a swipe at her. "Please! She's fragile!"

He raised an eyebrow, holding his arm out of her reach and using his other hand to keep her at bay.

"Oh _really_, now?" He asked smoothly, tossing the lifeless robot even higher into the air and gained a sharp intake of a gasp from her as he caught it. "Seems pretty sturdy to me."

"Butch, please!" Winona made another helpless grab for the robot. "I need her to help me with my new blueprints of Gizmo! She creates a borderline that will help me with the anatomy of my new project!"

Butch had absolutely _no _idea what she meant by all that inventor talk, and he furrow his brows at her.

"You're weird," And having enough fun, tossed Widget back to her. "You know that?"

Winona gave a sigh of relief as the little ladybug bot landed in her cupped together hands and she quickly slid her into her vault suit pocket, turning back to pick up armfuls of her work and walk to the door.

He had expected her to counter it with something like, "And you're a jerk, what's your point?" Or some other snarky or witty comment. But no, the most he gave her was a look over her shoulder and a gentle smile of thanks.

_That _freaked the hell out of him- mostly because he felt that the smile was meant for him.


	8. CHP 8: He Who Never Apologizes

**Author's Notes: I HOPE THIS CAME OUT GOOD! 'Cause I like all the fluffeh-wuffeh stuff with Butch and Winona... It's not much, but it's kinda-sorta-MAYBE there? (That's for YOU to decide as a reader, I guess!)**

**I'm not gonna talk much- just so you can get to the story faster! PLEASE LEAVE A HELPFUL REVIEW ABOUT MY WRITING!**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>"Wake up! You've <em>got<em> to wake up!" Winona could feel her body flip off her bed as she landed on the floor with a hollow thud, mattress flopping over next to her.

"_Ow!_" She shrieked out as her forehead slammed against the hard surface. She pulled her body back to sit up and rub at the sore area, glaring up to the perpetrator. "Amata! I was sleeping!"

The dark haired girl came over to her friend and slapped a hand across her mouth as two men dressed in the Vault's officer uniforms trudged by the window. Winona's eyes widened as she noticed that they had their guns unholstered. Only then did her ears pick up on the loud sirens.

"Wha-What's going on?" Winona asked once the officers were gone, pulling Amata's hand down.

"My father! He- He's gone completely _insane!_"

"Oh my God! Is he prancing around in lady's clothing, smearing peanut butter all over himself?" Winona asked with a smile.

Amata slapped her arm hard.

"Ow!" She rubbed her new sore. "What is it with you and _hitting_ me?"

"This is serious, Winona! The door- I don't- I don't kn-know _how-_"

"Door?" Winona looked up at her friend. "What door?"

"The _Vault's _door! Winona, it's open! Your father's gone!"

She could feel her body tense up under the weight of those words, trying to hold them up on her shoulders. But all they caught and were able to balance was "father" and "gone".

_Wh-Why?... Why now?_ Winona had never felt so terribly alone in her entire life.

"Dad's- _gone?_" She could barely choke out the words.

"What?" Amata blinked down at her. "You didn't _know?_ I thought he told you everything!"

She hung her head down, her tousled hair falling around her shoulders to frame her thin face.

"Apparently not _everything…_" She mumbled under her breath.

"I'm so sorry, Winona. I didn't know," She placed a gentle hand on her friend's shoulder. "But I'm afraid I have more bad news."

Winona looked up to her best friend. "_More_ bad news? It can't possibly get any worse than this, Amata!"

But the look on her friend's face told a different story.

"Jonas- he… He's-"

…_He's dead…_

"I get it. You don't have to say it, Amata…"

Amata hugged her friend tightly. "I'm _so_ sorry that this all happened. I'm sorry that my father is acting so- _horrible!_"

Winona snapped back to look up at her, grabbing onto her elbows. "Your _father?_ _He's_ the one that killed Jonas?" Her voice began to rise in volume.

"He thought Jonas knew where your father was! He tried to beat the information out of him…It- It went a little _too_ far-"

"You're father beat Jonas to death and you're _defending_ him? How could you, Amata?" She shrieked, shoving her friend back from her.

"I'm sorry, alright?" She yelled back, tears coming to her eyes. "I know Jonas was like a second father to you, but the Overseer is my _actual_ father! I don't have a choice!"

Winona gave her a somber glance. "You _do_ have a choice… You need to stop him."

"_We_ need to st-stop him…" Amata corrected in a cracked whisper. "Neither of us can do this alone. I have a plan, though."

"A plan? Not another one of your _plans_ Amata!"

"Hey, are we going to sit here arguing or are you just going to trust me?"

"If you know a straight shot out of this place, then I'll shut up and listen." Winona plucked up Widget from her nightstand, turning her on.

Amata's eyes widened. "_What?_ You're going to _leave?_"

Winona nodded, pulling herself up from the floor. "I'm not staying in_ here_," She pointed to the floor. "When my father's out _there_." Then pointed at the door as she ran over to her dresser and pulled out a crisp vault jumpsuit and began pulling it on.

Widget buzzed around the two girls happily, clicking and whirring to her little tin heart's content, but stopped when her antenna's twitched to the unhappy mood the two shared, and inquired about what was happening through a series of monotone beeps.

The all grown up inventor looked to her creation as she pulled up her zipper. "Dad's gone, Widget…"

The robot screeched with pure disbelief as she spiraled into Amata's cupped hands with confusion.

"You don't know what's out there, Winona! What if you get killed?" Amata panicked, looking to her best friend who was pulling her boots on hastily and tying them up. "They always told us that the radiation makes it _impossible_ to leave this place!"

"It's better than being in here! And if my dad is able to get out of here, then so can I!" Winona grabbed her mother's black ribbon from the desk as she put Widget to her shoulder, securely weaving the ribbon into her braid and looked back to her friend. "Either way, I'm going to get killed. Your father will make sure of that…"

Amata looked away from her, hugging herself. "So, this is it?..."

Winona nodded, placing a hand heavy with grief on her shoulder as Widget bleeped sadly.

"This is it…"

The girls jumped at the sound of the front door sliding open, both looking up to the figure of Officer Hannon, Paul's father, standing a few feet away from them in the little living room.

"There you are!" He smirked under the protective shield his helmet cascaded over his face. "Your father just unleashed hell in this place. And now, I'm going to unleash hell on _you_!"

Amata let out a shrill scream for all she was worth as Officer Hannon sprinted forward with his police baton arched high above his head.

Winona lunged head-first into action as she grabbed for the neck of her baseball bat, propped against her desk, closing her eyes as she swung it upward.

_If they take me down, I'm not going without a __**fight!**_

* * *

><p>"Someone, help me!" Butch listened to his mother's screams from the next room as he stood outside in the hallway, his hands clasping fistfuls of his gelled hair as he contemplated what to do. Dolly pawing at his jacket didn't help his train of concentration.<p>

"C'mon, Butchie!" She cried in a high-pitched, nasally whine, tugging harder to get his attention. "Just leave her, we can make a run for it!"

…_She's fuckin' with me, right?_

He spun around to give her a sharp look. "That's my _mom_ in there! I can't let her die!"

"If we don't leave now, we may never get out of this place!" She grabbed the front of his jacket to look him straight in the eyes hopefully.

"Are you bein' serious? Or are you just fuckin' with me Dolly?" He yelled, pulling back from her.

"I _am_ being serious! Just leave your mom and come away with me!" She gave him a smile of pleading. "Wouldn't it be great, living out _there _without a care in the world? Just you and me for the rest of our lives? Wouldn't it be great Butch? Wouldn't it?"

"No, Dolly! I'm not leavin' my ma like that!"

Her eyes darkened down at him. "Why not? She's a bitch anyways!"

Butch stood there, staring at her with a mixed look of anger and shock. His mother was many things; a frequent drunk, she'd forget to feed him sometimes, and whenever she went into one of her drinking rampages, he'd get hurt a little. His mom wasn't a good mom, but he could still see that she tried when it was difficult for both of them to come to terms with his father's death.

Out of all the things his mother was, she was _not_ a bitch.

"Oh no! I've upset you, haven't I?" Dolly cried in a worried panic, taking the front of his jacket again and lovingly caressed his cheeks with a nervous smile as she leaned in, "I'm sorry, I'm _so_ sorry…" And kissed him briefly. "I love you."

He pushed her back, spitting on the ground and wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, slightly smearing the bright red lipstick that transferred.

_This is it… I've had about fuckin' __**enough**__ with Dolly. The handjobs aren't worth it!_

"Bu-Butch?" She asked with wide eyes as she held onto the wall. "What are you doing?"

"I _don't_ love you." He snarled.

Dolly's eyes began to water up at the stinging words. "Wh- What?..."

"You _heard_ me. I don't love you! Get it through that thick fucking skull of yours! _I don't love you!_" He roared.

"But all the- all the things we did… All the things I did to you! The things I did _for_ you! How is that not love?" She shrieked as the tears flowed down her cheeks, washing away the face of her coverage in little rivers of black mascara and eyeliner.

_**God **__is she ugly, with or __**without**__ the makeup…_

"I fuckin' used you for a good time you stupid broad! I never loved you, I just wanted someone to suck my dick!"

Dolly staggered back from him as if he slapped her, his hurtful words having the same effect either way.

"I- how _could_ you-" Butch could see her eyes flicker away and catch something else, something _horrifying_, because her blue eyes widened even more and her shoulders began to tremble with a hand coming up to her mouth, the other pointing past him.

"Oh m-my _God!_" Her annoying voice cracked in fear with her shaking finger.

Butch spun around to see Winona standing a few feet away from him, her feet spread apart with her back facing him, a bulging backpack rested on her shoulders as Widget hovered around her head. This was the happiest he had ever been when he saw her, but that growing smile quickly reverted into a thin line as his eyes trailed down her hand clasping onto a baseball bat, its wood saturated with blood splatters.

_Winona?... Can she- __**could she**__-… Oh my God…_ He could feel his insides roughly heave up into his throat, and with a thick swallow, he forced back the rising bile.

Out of all the people he expected to be able to stomach killing another person, Winona would have _never_ made that list.

"I- I'm getting security!" He heard Dolly reply shrilly behind him as she turned and ran off.

Her outburst made Winona spin around to look at Butch. Blood was splattered on her chin and the side of her face across one of her eyelids, also slightly tainting her snowy bangs red. Blood was all over the hand that held her bat and the front of her jumpsuit, which was unzipped a little to reveal a glimpse of a grey undershirt.

"Ho-Holy _shit!_" He stepped back from her as she ran towards him. "Don't touch me!" He cowered away from her outstretched hand.

"_Shhh!_" She warned.

_This is it. She's snapped, and now she's goin' around killin' all us Tunnel Snakes. She's probably already killed Paul! Or worse, Wally!_

"Don't kill me!" He whimpered softly. "_Please_ don't kill me!" He begged.

Winona slapped a hand across his mouth. "I'm not going to kill you, Butch!" She pulled back after he stopped struggling. "So please, calm yourself?"

He gave a deep sigh of relief and nodded. "O-Okay…"

His mother's screams echoed in his ears, bringing him back to the situation that was quickly running out of time by the hourglass, and had an interesting thought. A _hopeful _thought…

"My ma! You gotta help her, the Radroaches are gonna get her!"

She was about to open her mouth to say something, probably to refuse, he realized.

This was when all his bullying would pay off in a way he never wanted. This was how he was going to pay for his sins- she was going to refuse to help him, and she was going to let his mom die… If only he could take it back. If only he could take it _all _back!

_Maybe- no! There's __**still**__ a chance!_

"I know I've been an ass to ya, ever since we were kids, but _please_ don't use that against me and let my ma die! She's all I got left now! Please, _please_, don't let her die, I'm sor-"

Winona clasped her hand over his mouth again and shot him a look of silence before he could even mutter his deepest, and most sincere, apology. He could feel his lungs holding in a breath of waiting.

He didn't know which was escalated more, his happiness or his shock, when she finally gave her quick answer.

"I'll help her."

She dropped her backpack to the floor and ran into the little apartment, swiftly opening the bedroom door and rushing inside.

Butch stared down to some of the contents that fell out of her bag. A skeletal muzzle made of metal poked out, along with a red light of a cyber eye staring up at him accusingly from its deep socket.

_Fu-Fucking creepy!_

He shuttered as he ran over and stood in the doorway, watching Winona with- he didn't even know _what_ he was feeling, but he stared all the same, observing with the pit in his stomach lightening with every swing she took down on the little bugs, smashing them into a mush of concave bodies floating in their own green-yellow juices.

"You- You got them _all…_" He stammered as he stepped into the room, making sure not to drown his boots in the bodily fluids of the Radroaches.

He watched as she gently helped his mother off the floor, trying to give her a warm smile, although she was a grisly sight with all that blood on her.

"Are you alright?" She asked her.

Ellen Deloria gave her a hardened look before slapping her across the face.

_Oh shit. __**Now**__ she's going to kill us all!_

"Ma!" Butch bellowed, watching as Winona toppled back onto his bed and rubbed at her throbbing cheek, looking up to his mother, her eyes absent with emotion.

"You _fucking_ skank!" She pointed a gnarly finger at her. "This is your dad's fault! If it wasn't for him, no one in this hellhole would be dying, or screaming their heads off! I wouldn't have almost been a fucking feast for these fucking bugs because of him!"

Winona looked away as his mother continued with her rant.

"I hope he dies! Wherever the hell he ran off to, I hope he fucking _dies!_"

Butch could see Winona slink away from the sharp words as they stabbed through her slowly, inch by harsh inch. She had enough of a beating already.

"Ma, that's enough!" He exclaimed, taking her by her shoulders and ushering her out of the room. He closed the door behind her, slowly turning around to look at Winona.

Widget crawled out of her shirt and up to her shoulder, nuzzling her bloodied cheek with her face, getting a smudge of crimson on it from the transfer.

Now was his time for redemption, to prove to her what he wanted to do _so_ badly from the time he was ten to fourteen, a little into fifteen as well; a chance to show her that he wasn't a complete asshole.

That, maybe, he even cared.

Just a little.

"She didn't hit ya too hard, did she?" Butch asked softly.

Winona shook her head and gently pet her robot. "No. I understand that she's upset."

"Didn't mean she had to hit you…" He mumbled.

The image of Winona's face flashed into his mind; back from when they were teenagers- fourteen, he tried to recall- and he had knocked her off the bench and onto the cold floor. He had done the same thing, and he never apologized to her. Yet he was somehow trying to find the words to apologize for his _mom_ doing it?

Silence came around them as she gave a shallow sigh, hoisting herself up from his bed.

"I need to get going. I'll see you around Butch." Winona began to push past him, her hand coming out to press against the door console.

"Wha-? _Wait!_" He grabbed her by the wrist, looking at the side of her sophisticated face. "Where are you goin'?"

A sad smirk played her lips as she looked up to him. "I'm leaving the Vault. I need to find my father."

"You're _leavin'?_" He cried, letting go. "Wh-Wha- _the fuck!_"

"I have to Butch. I don't have a choice… The Overseer could kill me."

That thought hit him like a ton of bricks. Winona was leaving. Winona was leaving because if she didn't, she'd be gunned down by the Overseer and his lackeys.

…_Fuck, the Overseer fucks up __**everything!**_

When had it come to this? When had it come to the point that the girl he bullied all throughout their childhood was leaving, _for good_? Never coming back, never giving that shy smirk when she knew the shenanigans that he was up to, _never_ to see her walk the hallways with her bizarre inventions _ever _again? _Why?_

This ranked as high as losing his mother on the scale of sorrow. He was losing- what was he losing? A victim? Someone who understood? _Understood what?_

Butch couldn't understand his thoughts at all; they were too frayed at the ends to quite know exactly which way they meant to go.

He snapped back to reality as her hand came up to the door console, sliding the large slab of steel up.

_She's never comin' back. I'm really never gonna see her again?..._

"Butch, please take care of yourself…" She murmured under that shy smile. "Because if I die out there, I'm coming back to haunt your scaly serpent ass."

"Eh! Don't even _joke_ like that, you ain't gonna die!" He grimaced.

Great, just what he needed- a goodbye from her consisting of a mental image of her mangled body lying face down in a ditch somewhere with flies buzzing around her rotting carcass.

"Sorry," She let out an awkward chuckle and picked up her bat, walking out of the room past his mother.

"Hold on a second, I wanna give you somethin'," He ran towards her, pulling off his jacket.

"Butch, what are you doing?" She asked as he shoved it towards her.

"I want you to take my jacket, consider yourself an _official_ member of the Tunnel Snakes."

Butch expected her to reject it, implying that she was too goody-goody to even be caught dead in it, but she took it gratefully and shrugged it on.

"How does it look?" She asked quietly, giving him a 360 view.

It actually didn't look half bad, her white hair and coffee skin kind of added to it.

"You were meant to wear that jacket." Butch replied quietly as he watched her back glide and twist from him as she picked up her bag of weirdo inventor products and gave him one last look over her shoulder, turning and running off to find her father.

Only when she was gone did he outstretch his hand as if trying to stop her.

Somewhere inside him was more filler he wanted to give to the goodbye they exchanged, which wasn't much in itself. He wanted to apologize for everything he's ever done. But deep inside, he hoped that the offering of his jacket explained at least a _quarter_ of how sorry he was, for everything. He was never good at expressing his feelings vocally.

He went back to his room and shut the door, sitting down on his bed to hold his head in his hands; he didn't care if it messed up his hair.

Butch could feel the stress and tension building up in his spine, through his neck, and dripping into his head; he'd need a nice release soon. He knew he had to apologize to Dolly if he wanted that "release".

His thoughts were suddenly shattered when he gave a deep sigh, inhaling the scent of Winona's skin that stained his bed and his sheets; it was the smell of lilac and something else that was sweet. He couldn't recall if she had always smelled so nice.

"_Butch, please take care of yourself…"_

He took in another deep inhale of the aroma; it was therapeutic for him.

As he closed his eyes to let darkness and the sound of alarms envelop him, he secretly prayed that he would get out of the Vault too; to find her, and tell her how sorry he was about the bullying, his anger towards her, and how he couldn't bring himself to speak of his affections, or give her a memorable goodbye.

Butch knew he would apologize for everything. If he ever had the courage to do what she did.

But his eyes snapped open as he heard pounding feet in front of his apartment. He sat up and looked through the window.

Freddie was looking around, back and forth, back and forth, before finally calling out.

"Whammy! Where _are_ you?"

And with a heavy heart, Butch walked out to point him in the right direction.


	9. CHP 9: Never Gonna Let You Go

Winona didn't know what to do as she crouched below the barred window, listening on to the conversation that the Overseer was trying to have with his daughter. The armed and willing officer, Stevie Mack, didn't help much, and she silently thanked Amata for being such a trustworthy friend and not speaking a word.

Widget clicked at her for information, but she simply held a finger of silence to her lips, and peeked up over to look through the window.

"Sweetheart, you _need_ to tell us where Winona is. We just want to _talk_ to her, that's all!" Her father explained in a calm voice.

No matter what, he always sounded arrogant and obsessive.

"I told you, I don't _know_ where she is!" Amata exclaimed angrily.

"Sweetheart, you're making this a lot more difficult than it has to _be_. We know that you're scared, so unused to what is happening around you, but it would end so much faster if you told us where she is so we could resolve where her father is."

"Why does it matter? James is gone now!"

Winona slowly pressed her back into the cold metal, tilting her head back to connect with the base of the window. She was so busy trying to run and hide from the officers, the reality of what was happening didn't have enough time to take its course and sink in for her. Her father was _gone_. Her father somehow managed to leave the Vault, the one thing she has known for all her life. This place hasn't been opened for 200 years, since the bombs fell due to the _ungodly_ amounts of radiation on the outside, and her _father_ had somehow managed to open it and leave. Whatever he did unleashed chaos in the form of a paranoid Overseer and a battalion of Radroaches, and the residents of the Vault were all trapped in the damn middle of this steel maze; without an exit, without a way to escape.

Winona looked down to her bloody hands, dropping her bat into her lap.

_People are going to die. It would be easier if they just let me walk out of here._ She glanced up over the windowsill. _More people wouldn't have to die..._

She could see the sadistic Officer Mack getting frisky for his police baton. She could see the driven look Amata had on her features twisted with anger and disgust for her father. It took all of them this long to realize how bad Alphonse's mental state was; it took her father leaving, the death of Jonas, a horde of Radroaches, and her desperate capture to get them all to stop and look at one another and say _"__**Fuck!**__ That guy's crazy!"_

"Yes, James is gone, but he needs to pay for everything that he's done. If the world continued revolving when parasites infested it, what would happen?" She saw the smile come across his face.

"What? Dad, you're not making any sense..." Amata furrowed her eyebrows together in a colorful mixture of concern and confusion.

"It is because you refuse to _listen!_" He pointed an accusing finger at her, before folding his arms behind his back with composure. "Now, you _are_ going to tell me where Winona is."

"_I don't know where she is!_ I already told you!"

"Amata, sweetheart, we can either do this the _easy_ way..." He motioned Officer Mack standing next to him, and he immediately flicked out his police baton.

Amata's eyes widened down on it, slowly drawing them upward to be greeted by her father's heinous smile.

"Or the _hard_ way. It is your choice."

She jumped up from her chair, knocking it back with a loud clatter of metal against metal.

"Yo-You're _sick_ daddy! You're enjoying this, aren't you?" She cried.

"I don't _enjoy_ hurting you Amata. I just need to know where Winona is." He replied simply, looking down at his nails with such intricate interest.

Winona always knew that Amata's father was heartless towards everyone in the Vault. There were times he would even become detached from his own daughter, only coming around to lord over her and to have his presence noted when she came in for her check-ups. She recalled when her father first spoke of the Overseer coming to every _single_ one of Amata's check-ups ever since she became a teenager, as if Amata would do something stupid like- like getting _pregnant_. None of the girls she grew up with so much as _thought_ about carrying offspring for the boys they had the pleasure of picking from...

Freddie was an exception. He was an absolute sweetheart.

_This is bad... __**Really**__ bad!_ _I have to do something!_

Winona watched as Mack slowly stepped towards Amata, a grin curling his lips.

"N-No! Please!" Amata begged, her arms coming up to protect her face as she backed into the wall.

"Widget, create a distraction!" She whispered down at the little bot.

She nodded her head and buzzed up to the door console, pressing against the button with her nose to have it slide up.

"What was that?" Alphonse turned around to look at the open door with cautious eyes.

Widget fluttered into the doorway and beeped a playful hello, waving a leg at them sweetly.

"I'll get it!" The officer called as he ran over, swinging his baton up.

"_No!"_ The Overseer cried with an outstretched hand. "It's one of Winona's toys!"

But the officer didn't hear in time as Widget ducked out of the way, Winona leaping out to replace her and have her bat come hurdling into the side of his unprotected face. He crumpled to his knees before flailing onto his side, unconscious in a pool of blood and a broken nose.

"Should have worn your helmet..." Winona mumbled as she stepped over his body with her gory bat dragging along the floor behind her, leaving a slight tacky trail of scarlet as she looked up to the Overseer.

"Hello, Alphonse."

He grimaced at her. "You will refer to me as your Overseer! You have _no right_ calling me by my first name!"

"You are no longer my Overseer. I am my own woman now, and you're going to let me leave this place." She pointed her bat at him, her eyes narrowing. "Or _else._"

"Winona, _no!_" She heard Amata mutter pleadingly behind her father.

A smug smile creeped onto his face as he slowly held up his arms in a move of surrender.

"You don't have the _stomach_ to kill anyone, Winona. You're still but a child! You wouldn't _dare_."

She gave him a smile of her own. "Oh, wouldn't I?"

Winona slowly brought her other hand up, making her fingers into the form of a gun and pressed down the trigger of her thumb.

"_Pow._" She muttered as an actual gun clicked behind his head.

With wide eyes, the Overseer spun around to get friendly with the barrel of a pistol in his face, his own daughter holding the weapon.

"Amata! How- How _did_ you-" He couldn't manage to find the words.

"I snagged it from your office. I'm sorry dad, but I have to help Winona... She's my friend."

"Your _friend?_" He bellowed, his eyes becoming angry as she circled around him with her pistol still up, aiming between his eyes as she stood next to Winona. "You're choosing your _friend_ over your own _father?_"

"If my father was willing to hurt me, than yes! I will!" Amata's hand was never flinching, unwavering even, as she stared down her father.

"How _dare_ you threaten me! And with my own gun, no less!" He bellowed.

"Well then, now you know what it's like to feel so helpless…" She replied, lowering her gun a bit to give her father a look of woe.

"Amata, we have to go!" Winona whispered to her friend, tugging on her elbow.

Amata looked back to her. "You're right." Then looked back at Alphonse. "Don't follow us dad, because I don't want to know how good I am with a gun."

And before he could say anything else to either of the two girls, Amata grabbed Winona by the hand, running with her through the weaving hallways.

"Good thinking Amata, using your gun." Winona called over the sound of their thundering feet.

"I guess… Good thing you told me to keep it." They turned a corner and kept running, the sound of Widget's wings snapping together whirred past her head as the little bot landed on Amata's shoulder and nuzzled against her neck. "You weren't actually going to _hurt_ my father- were you?"

She shook her head. "Of course not, Amata! Although your dad is officially a few sandwiches short of whatever mentally psychotic picnic he's attending, I couldn't do that to you. He still is your father, after all."

"I'm not so sure anymore, Winona... Did you see what he was going to do to me?"

"I did. That's why I got Widget to create a distraction."

The girls kept running in silence; Amata never looking back, and Winona always looking forward. It was better that way, to keep them both from realizing the path of destruction the Overseer tried to control as they left. They only killed if it was necessary. Most of the escaping consisted of Amata crippling the legs of any officers who dared stop them with her gun, or Winona using her baseball bat to knock them unconscious. Ever since they were kids, they were always a team, working together as if they were one with the same body. The two were practically sisters, and they wouldn't have it any other way. They could have been for all anyone _else_ knew. They both shared similar experiences. They grew up in the Vault, they both loved pudding no matter the flavor, they both had the absence of a motherly figure from the time they were _very_ young, and they both had fathers that seemed to carry a side that no one else knew about. Not even themselves.

Winona didn't know what was worse; the fact that she was all alone, or the fact that her father didn't realize, or care enough about her wellbeing, to stay and at least _tell_ her where he was going and what he was up to. She didn't want to think about trusting this person, the only family she ever had left, being a complete stranger to her now.

Amata stopped in front of her, giving Winona no time to react as she slammed into her and stumbled backward.

"Amata, what is it?"

"Ju-Just- _don't_ look Winona…"

"What? Look where?" She looked over her friends shoulder to see Jonas lying on the floor.

His body looked distorted with the way his limbs were broken, laying in a blood pattern that looked like an ink-blot painting to her. His thick glasses were flung away from him with both lenses broken, and his eyes stared up at her as lifeless slits.

_Tell me… What do you see in this picture?_ She quizzed herself solemnly.

She saw no life. She saw no love. She saw no _compassion,_ no _humanity_. All she saw was red; lots and lots of red, behind her eyes, and on the floor.

"Jo-Jonas…" Her lips seemed to murmur on their own as she fell to her knees in front of him, gently flipping him onto his back and laying his limbs in the proper places.

"I- this- this is too much Winona!… I can't look at it!" She could hear Amata gag behind her as she ran out of the room and into her apartment across the hall.

Winona's trembling hand slowly came up to his eyes, brushing his lids down with respect. Her world didn't seem so dark now- now that it looked like he was just sleeping…

She slowly got up from the floor, wiping her emerging tears away with the back of her hand as she went after Amata. She was sitting at her dining table, holding her head in her hands.

"Hey. You alright?"

"I- I think so. I've just never seen a-" She gave a hard swallow. "A dead body before…"

"Sadly, I have." Winona replied softly as she sat on the table, her legs dangling over the edge as she looked down to Amata, then to Widget, still nuzzling her neck.

"This is it, isn't it?" Amata looked up at her. "The Vault isn't going to be the same ever again. It's not going to be just us sitting in class, tossing notes to each other, Butch bullying us 24/7…" She gave a depressing smile at it all. She would have preferred Butch not bothering her, _period_, but not like this. She didn't want to give up the life she knew, for this.

"No. It isn't... Can't you leave with me?" She suggested softly.

Amata gave a little chuckle and rubbed her tired eyes. "I wish I could. But the people here need me, as sad as I am to say it, more than you do…"

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Winona asked defensively.

"It means that if there is _anyone_ out there who can survive on their own, it's you, Winona. I'd only hold you down. Besides, I need to talk to my father, and if worse comes to worse, I might need to protect everyone from him."

"I wish it wasn't like this…" Winona murmured as she laid a gentle hand on her friend's shoulder.

"I wish it wasn't either." Amata's head hung solemnly, staring down into the wood in the table with a blank look. "I wish it wasn't either…"

"Amata, I-"

"Winona, you need to go…"

"Huh?"

"You _have_ to go," She rephrased with the tears streaking down her face. "Before my father's men catch you."

She sighed, jumping off the table to hug her friend tightly. "Yo-you're right… Keep safe, Amata. Keep Butch in line, too!"

Amata giggled half-heartedly. "I will… You take care of yourself, too."

Winona nodded and grabbed for Widget, clicking her off into shutdown mode and placing her in the backpack on her back that also contained Gizmo's parts.

"I hope you can talk some sense into your father, Amata. Before it's too late…"

Amata chuckled sadly, cradling her head in her curled arms on the table as Winona cautiously stepped out of the room.

"You and me both, Winona… I hope it isn't too late already." Was the last thing she heard as the door between them slid shut.

Winona walked across the hall and pressed her hand to the door console of the Overseer's office, pressing it again with her silvery brows furrowed with question when the hulking slab of steel didn't remove itself from her path. The little inventor sighed and pried off the face of the console, digging her hands into the cavity to bring forth a bunch of wires. She set her backpack down and knelt to it, searching through it for her tool bag. Finally finding it amongst the clutter, she pulled a utility knife out and turned back to the console; not before tensing at something she saw clasped in Jonas' cold hand.

Winona hesitantly crept over and unfurled his fingers with the tears surging in her lavender eyes again and quickly snatched the slim something from his palm, letting his fingers fall back into place.

_It's a- a holotape…_ Her mind echoed as her fingers grazed the smooth surface of its face. Bringing up her arm, she carefully slid it into the input slot of her Pip-Boy. Now wasn't the time to be reading it- she had to get out of here.

Winona turned back to her task and cut several wires, partial skinning their colorful rubber protection to twist the copper wiring together and watched as the door slid open. She closed up her knife and pocketed it, grabbing her backpack and running into the office with the door sliding shut behind her, quickly greeted by the environment of the cold room. A half-circle desk rested in the center, a large keyboard with a computer monitor rested to the wall behind it and had several lockers to its side. To a bare wall at her left was the round window she broke in her preteen years.

She sighed happily at the memory; it was a better time for all of them. She was amongst friends, doing something she loves, when the Overseer kept his fears and paranoia deeply locked away somewhere far, _far _away…

Winona shook her head of it all and ran towards the computer monitor, her fingers flying across the keyboard as its interface came up in requesting of a password. She scoffed at the effort to keep her from hacking it, and typed in five letters, saying them aloud as her finger pressed to each lettered key.

"A-M-A-T-A…" She hummed and pressed enter, smiling when the computer's desktop revealed itself to her.

She clicked "Overseer's Tunnel," and spun around to see the desk raise up and the floor slide open, revealing a pair of stairs.

"Wow… I've never seen _this_ in the blueprints of the Vault…" She murmured with wide eyes.

"Whammy?"

Her lavender eyes darted up to see Freddie standing in the doorway, glancing over to the open tunnel with wide eyes.

"_Freddie?_" She blinked with disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

"Wha-What _is_ that?" He pointed at it.

Winona bit her lip with hesitation as she walked over and stood next to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"It's-… It's an escape tunnel, Freddie." She answered softly and looked up at him with heavy eyes.

"An escape tunnel?" He blinked with thought and looked down at her. "So- it _is_ true. You're really leaving, aren't you?..."

She nodded and looked back to the stairs, listening to the echoing silence waft towards them.

"…I can't let you Whammy." He replied sternly, grabbing her by her shoulders and turned her to face him.

"I don't have a choice..." She murmured, avoiding his eyes.

"What? What do you mean?"

"If I don't leave, the Overseer is just going to hunt me down until he finds me. The Vault isn't a big place…" Winona looked up to him finally, smiling a little sadly. "But it's big out there, and my _father_ is somewhere out there. So I need to find him-"

"Then I can't let you leave until I- _I-_…" He began to exclaim, his voice trailing off to somewhere else as his hands fell back to his sides with frustration.

Her silver eyebrows furrowed together. "Until you what, Freddie?"

His dark eyes turned away from her and his hand rubbed the back of his neck while his tongue lingered for the words.

"Freddie?" She murmured quietly, stunned when his hands came to grip her sides and gently pressed her back to the wall, bringing his body close to hers.

"_I can't let you leave… Not until I tell you how much you mean to me_." He spoke in a low voice, his head slowly lowering to hers.

"Fre-Freddie-" Was all that managed to escape her mouth as his lips softly pressed to hers.

Their eyes met as their lips became warm with each other's touch, with the other persons sensation bringing a comfort neither of them ever had. But it was a strange comfort that she needed, but did not want, because even though there was someone there to give her some sort of reassurance, the fractured piece of her missing father weighed heavily in the contracting muscle of her heart.

When he finally pulled back from her, beaming with a smile she had never seen from the self-conscious boy, he gave her a tight squeeze.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time Whammy. But I've never had the courage to, not until now…" He whispered in her ear as her arms wrapped around his waist to hug him back, and she buried her forehead into his shoulder.

"I'm going to miss you so much Freddie… Promise me you'll take care of yourself?"

He nodded against her head, pulling back to look down into her eyes with that smile still on his face.

"I will." Then with one last squeeze, jogged out of the room to leave Winona to her thoughts.


	10. CHP 10: A Life Lesson Learned

**Author's Notes: I HAVE COME BACK! From _cyber_ death! -makes scary ghost noises- ROFL xD sorry about the long wait, guys! I'm going to admit- after all my stuff was deleted, I didn't have the courage to start this story up again... It was the same with Project Sixx, as Another War For Your Textbooks seemed to be the ONLY story I had at the time that was getting a_ lot_ of attention from my readers! Anyways, I'll try to make you guys proud by continuing Winona's story! (I have TOO MANY good ideas for this to just let it sit and rot away in my mind... heh, heh).**

**So, please read and review! I'll try to keep up with weekly updates! (If school doesn't chew me up and spit me out, that is...)**

**Enjoy! And don't be afraid to leave constructive criticism! I may fix this chapter up later down the road if I'm not too happy about it, and if a lot of you guys aren't... Well, yeah- I'll fix it :D**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

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><p>With her hand gripping the handle of her baseball bat, hot air <em>woosh<em>ed against Winona's bronze face as the giant steel door of Vault 101 slid open with an ear-shattering screech and the Vault's sirens still going off like mad. Once it pulled out of its proper place, being rolled to the side, Winona gazed down a long and narrow cavern- cold and empty if you excluded the skeletons at the foot of the doorframe- to see a wooden door at the very end. Thick light streamed in through its splintered boards, illuminating the dust particles that danced through the air.

Nothing but silence echoed back at her, if that were at all possible. It was louder than the Vault door's screeches of protest in being opened if you could imagine.

Winona gave a shaky sigh as Widget perched on her shoulder, beeping sadly. She looked down to her companion and nuzzled her head with her lips affectionately, trying not to let herself succumb to the plump tears that threatened to blue her vision.

"Thi- This is it, Widget..." She murmured in a broken voice, looking down the tunnel once more. "We're leaving Vault 101."

It was hard for both the inventor and her invention to comprehend that they were leaving behind _everything_ they had ever known. Growing up, Winona was well versed in the reason why no one was supposed to leave the Vault- past the door at the end of the tunnel was un_godly_ amounts of radiation that would kill you as soon as you opened the door and stepped outside. There was the irony... She was born in the Vault, and she was supposed to die in the Vault to only escape and die not even within ten, maybe fifteen feet from its giant steel door.

Where was the justice in that? Why couldn't she live?

"Oh- Oh my _God!_" Amata squealed, making Winona jump and spin around to gawk at her friend as she came through the door behind her, standing at her side with wide eyes and an agape mouth of horror.

"I- I know..." She stammered, looking back down the tunnel.

"You- You _actually_ got the door open! My God, this is actually _happening..._" She gripped her friend's arm with a trembling hand, looking back into her lavender eyes. "You're actually leaving..."

"It's so weird," Winona commented, still nuzzling Widget's head with her lips. "If anyone ever asked you that your best friend would leave the Vault to go looking for her missing father, would you have believed it?"

"No," Amata replied with a shake of her head. "I probably wouldn't have... But that was when the most we had to worry about was Mr. Brotch's Algebra tests- _now?_ It's about life and death, isn't it?"

"I wish it wasn't."

"I wish it wasn't either, Winona..." She agreed, heaving a deep sigh and held her head in her hands. "I- I'm going to miss you... _so much..._"

"Hey, maybe I can come back to visit?" Winona laughed half-heartedly, turning to her best friend and clapped a hand down on her shaking shoulder. "After all, Vault 101 is my home, I can't leave everyone I ever cared about behind... You're my family, I have other friends-" She swallowed hard, a prickling blush overcoming her face. "We- Well... I guess he's my _boyfriend_ now, I dunno..."

Amata's eyes widened once again, glistening with tears as she gawked up at her.

"Wait- what's this about a boyfriend?" She smiled a little, and both girls were glad that they had even a _moment_ to act like true teenage girls before they were torn from each other to be tossed into each a new way of living. Both were thankful that they were given a moment to forget the situation at hand...

"Freddie, he- he _kissed_ me when I was in your father's office, trying to open the tunnel… He said he couldn't let me leave until I knew how much he meant to me..."

"_Awww-_" Amata cooed. "That's so sweet! So- how was the _kiss?_" She arched a brow at her playfully, wiping the tears from her eyes as she smiled more.

Winona's face grew even hotter, and Widget began to click mechanical laughter at her.

"We- Well, he pinned me against the wall... He had his arms around me, and it was- _kinda nice..._" She began to smile too.

"_Steamy,_" Her friend dragged in a sultry voice, and they both began to giggle before it turned into an outrageous laughing fit. But the moment the girls locked eyes, their smiles turned to frowns and their laughter turned to choked sobs that they tried to suppress.

"I really hope you find your dad, Winona... I know none of this was his fault, it wasn't like he meant to do it on _purpose_..."

"Who knows?" Winona replied in a hard, melancholy tone, gazing down the tunnel. "It could have been used as a distraction so he could escape without being followed..."

"Well, if he did it on purpose, when you find him you can tell him his distraction didn't work." Amata smiled sadly. "You tell him that his stubborn inventor of a daughter still managed to follow him."

"I think I'll just tell him that you said hello," She chuckled a little, tensing at the sound of pounding footfalls coming behind them.

The two girls snapped their eyes up to see two Vault officers running down the hall towards the door Amata had come through.

"_There she is!_" One exclaimed, ripping his pistol out of its holster on his hip.

"Winona, _**run!**_" Amata exclaimed, pulling out her own pistol as she shoved Winona towards the door. "I'll do what I can to buy you some time!"

"Amata-!"

"_Just __**go!**_" She bellowed, turning back to shoot at the two officers. The bullets rang off the walls, clanging sharply as she missed time and time again. Her hand was trembling too much- she couldn't get a concentrated shot out.

Winona did as she was told and ran towards the steps that led to the giant steel door, Widget hurrying after her with the clicking whir of her tin wings snapping together. She soared down the steps to land on her hands and knees painfully, and she let out a hiss from cutting her palm on the floor. Ignoring the slick crimson that ran down from the deep cut, she got up and continued running.

Halfway down the tunnel, it was like everything seemed to slow down around her- causing her to freeze in place, almost. Coming to an agonizingly slow halt, she twisted her chin up over her shoulder to see Widget bolt past her.

Past the Vault's giant steel door frame in the shape of a monstrous gear, Winona saw Amata finally shoot one of the officers as he got closer. It lodged into the front of his bulletproof vest, causing the wind to be knocked out of him as he felt backwards and lay on the floor, trying to get his breath back. The second officer simply jumped over him as if he were an unnecessary hurdle in his path. He grabbed for Amata.

Amata tried to get another round off, but her gun clicked empty, and she opted to use it as a club by clenching her hand tightly around the trigger and smashing it down on the glass guard of his security helmet. It had no effect, as she didn't swing down hard enough. The guard retaliated by grabbing Amata's hand that held the gun high above her head, jerking his knee up so it connected with her gut, and she doubled over onto her knees- sleek strands of raven black hair falling out of her bun.

Winona screamed; _"Amata!"_, but she didn't know if her lips had formed the words or if she had only screamed it in her head.

The guard grabbed Amata by her upper arms and hauled her up to unsteady feet as pained tears rolled down her cheeks from the assault. She continued to scream incoherent things to the inventor- almost as if her pleas had fallen on deaf ears. Winona's ears heard that her best friend was screaming, but her mind could not comprehend _what_ she was saying. The guard began to drag Amata down the hallway from where he came, one arm wrapped around her neck with the other wrapped over her torso to pin her arms at her sides. One hand came up, clawing into the cloth of his arm around her neck as she continued to scream and cry and struggle against him- her bun becoming even messier as more strands of black hair fell into her eyes and face.

As they were going down the hallway, Alphonse came around the corner, and grinned that smug grin of his when he saw that his rebellious daughter was apprehended. He stopped his content stride to clap a hand down on the officer's shoulder, mouthing words of praise and telling him where to place Amata until he could question her further- or at least get her under stable control. As he walked away, Amata began to struggle more against the officer, outstretching a begging hand towards her father, _howling_ and _pleading_ that her father leave her best friend alone.

Her screams had finally fallen on deaf ears.

Alphonse would not listen.

He continued walking, his arms folded behind his back as if he were a graceful gentleman, and not an Overseer with a sanity that was deemed as questionable.

He eyed Winona down the cavern, knowing full well of her presence- and she was somehow surprised that he didn't come over to her to drag her back inside himself.

But as he brought one of his hands up from behind his back and lightly pushed against the lever on the door console, grin deepening to uncomforting lengths, the cavern walls trembled around her to sprinkle dust and tiny rocks onto her head and shoulders- and she knew what he was trying to do.

If he couldn't keep her here, he could guarantee that she would die out there from the radiation.

Alphonse knew that either way she would die- and he was happy enough with the odds to let her go out on her own.

Winona felt Widget tug on her ear, nipping it to get her attention, and as the inventor came to her senses she heard her father's voice- it was from a conversation she had not thought about since she was nine.

_"War. War never changes."_

"_Dad?"_

She could feel the dust from the cavern ceiling above sprinkle onto her tongue, and it was almost like she could taste hundreds of years of death and pain in an instant.

_"From the beginning of time, man knew the effect of rock against bone. They knew what it was like to kill, they knew how easy it was to take a man's life. Ever since, wars have broken out all over the world. It's written in every chapter of your history textbook in Mr. Brotch's class, isn't it? Killing has been in the name of everything from justice, to religion and God, to pure psychotic rage. The tools changed, the people have changed, the names of the fallen have changed, and the reasons will __always__ change. But you know what doesn't change?"_

_"What doesn't change?"_

The smell of decaying flesh and musty, trapped air invaded her nostrils.

_"War. All the little factors will change, but the general __idea__ of war will never change, sweetheart. That is what threw us into this abyss of steel walls and packaged food. That is why wars are written in textbooks. It's in hopes that future generations would have learned from our ancestors mistakes."_

_"But it didn't make a difference, dad. It still happened! So why do we still read about them?"_

Her ears rang with the sound of the screeching Vault 101 door being summoned from its resting place at the side of the Vault's mouth.

_"Because, the war that supposedly ended the world wasn't the end of mankind. There will always be another war to fight, another battle to march into, another tear to shed for lost ones… This fight you have with Butch is no different."_

_"Dad?"_

_"Yes, Nona?"_

_"If I still do this… You won't be mad at me?"_

_"Of course not sweetheart. I could never be upset with you, nor could I be disappointed. If you decide to continue with this fight you have with Butch, then I will not hold it against you."_

Somewhere down the line, as the moments passed, her strained eyes began to adjust to the dim light that coated her trembling shoulders.

She felt nothing but the severe silence and the cold that encased her.

_"What happened? Did you get in trouble? Are you still going? Did he __**yell**__ at you? What happened? __**What happened?**__"_

_"He- gave me a choice…"_

_"A choice? To do what?"_

_"War… War __**never **__changes…"_

Winona finally realized what her father was trying to tell her all those years ago. Maybe then, she felt that he had gone a little overboard, but he was a good father- he was only trying to help her build a proper moral path to abide by. She never realized, maybe not even until now when she was standing on the edge of her home looking for him, that he had done right by teaching her a lesson she never thought she'd have to use.

Know what you are fighting for.

And she was fighting for freedom.

"War!" She howled at the top of her lungs, finally noticing the hot tears that streaked down her bloody cheeks. "War _never_ changes, Alphonse!"

All he did was throw his head back and cackle- cackle that God-_awful_ laugh of his as he turned away from the door console and began striding down the hall after the officer with a triumphant stride in his step.

Vault 101's door slid into place and fit snugly into the gear shape of the door, and Winona didn't know how true those words were until she was almost completely alone.

At least Widget was the only one to see her fall to her knees and sob.


	11. CHP 11: The Damage She's Done

**Author's Notes: HEY ALL! I didn't get any reviews for the last chapter I posted of Winona escaping... So- hopefully- I'll get some THIS chapter!**

**HUZZAH! :D**

**So anyways- I decided that every chapter I'm going to switch back and forth between different POV's. One chapter, you'll see what Winona is facing on the outside in the hell-on-Earth of the Capital Wasteland, while on the next chapter, you'll see what's happening with Butch on the inside of Vault 101 now with all hell breaking loose.**

**I think it should be interesting! Don't you agree? ;3**

**I hope this chapter came out good, though... BUTCH FINALLY (kinda-sorta-_maybe_) GROWS A PAIR IN THIS CHAPTER! That courage won't last for long, though... -evil laugh- Sorry e_O"**

**Anywhooo~ ENJOY! Leave a review, (PLEASE!) about how much you enjoyed it, or if you just feel like popping some constructive criticism up in my business xD**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

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><p>"Ma, you're gonna stay here, 'kay? Gotta get out there 'n see what's what." Butch laid his mom to her bed, and she stared at the wall blankly while giggling and hiccupping- clinging onto the neck of a glass vodka bottle which she brought to her thin lips to throw back a deep swig. Rivulets dribbled down from the corners of her mouth to the point of her chin before dripping onto the floor or on her jumpsuit.<p>

After Butch gave Freddie directions to find Winona, he went back into his apartment to find his mother tossing back beer like it was holy water. She worked her way up the chain- beer, than wine, than whiskey, now vodka. He had to help her get to her bed.

He knew she'd be safe as long as she didn't leave the room- but he had to find the other Tunnel Snakes. He wanted to know if Winona made it out okay, or if she got caught by her daddy and his sadistic cronies- like Wally's older brother.

"Where 'ya goin'?" She asked drunkenly, giving a wary smile as she laid back on her pillow, spilling a little more vodka onto her jumpsuit. "You gonna git me moar _vodka?_ 'Cause momma's almost runnin' out!" She cackled.

Butch winced at the noise as he got up and went to the door. He never liked his mother's drunken laugh. It was always so empty and shrill, and hard on the ears. When was the last time he heard her warm, caring chuckles? He supposed it'd be a snowball's chance in hell before he heard it again- given the fact that the vault had seemed to turn into a shithole infested by Radroaches and explosions and large fires breaking out everywhere.

"Sure," He lied. "I'ma stop by Wally's on the way back."

"Hurry your worthless ass up! I ain't getting any younger!" She snapped, jolting up in her bed with a sudden rush of anger.

"Ain't that the truth…" He sneered, narrowly missing getting nailed in the chest by the bottle she was once holding as he stumbled out of the room. He locked the bedroom door to keep out any more Radroaches- when she was drunk, it was a miracle she could still keep drinking with how worn down her motor functions became- and ran out of their disheveled apartment.

Butch ran down the hallways, stopping when he heard that familiar hissing noise. He twisted his head over his shoulder to see the writhing body of a vault guard in the corner, trying to cover his face and body with his arms for makeshift protection as he was getting jumped on by a few Radroaches.

"He- Help me!" He shrieked, outstretching a hand to Butch, and the Serpent King tensed. "_Please, __**help me!**_"

"N- No way man!" He croaked, vigorously shaking his head and backed away a step or two with his hands held up. "You're on your own!"

"_**Please help me!**_" He continued to shriek, making garbled noises as he was completely run over by more Radroaches that came down the stairs at his side.

Three of them saw the trembling Deloria in the middle of the hallway, hissing with interest as they began skittering over to him like little hellions with twitchy antennas.

"Fu- _Fuck!_" Butch exclaimed, spinning on the heel of his boots and took off down the hallway- but the Radroaches weren't too far behind him.

He skidded to a halt at an elbow in the walkway, slamming into the wall and falling to his knees- hard. Cringing at the dull pain that riddled up and down his legs and hitting home in his stomach, his eyes darted up to see the Radroaches gaining on him. He got up to stagger out a run, trying to keep his legs from buckling underneath him as he gradually returned to a running pace.

His lungs burned and felt like they were contracting into nothingness in his chest, his legs ached and felt numb- causing him to worry that they were enough like jell-o to give out underneath him, and he realized that he hadn't hurt this much since he was fourteen and on the Vault's baseball team. Freddie's father, Mr. Gomez, forced them to run_ tons_ of laps around the auditorium for a warm-up before each practice. It was _murder!_

Winona's young face flashed into his head, back from when they were on the baseball team together. He had actually signed up because he heard she was going to, and he wanted to impress her… It was a fool-proof plan until he realized something- he couldn't pitch, catch, or hit to save his life! So, in a nutshell, he guessed there was a reason why his G.O.A.T. exam didn't destine him to be a professional baseball player (even if it _was_ an option), and destined him to become a barber instead.

"_Woah!_" Butch exclaimed, stumbling out of the way and narrowly missing a shower of flames. Spinning around, he found Andy toasting the Radroaches.

"Take _that_ you little jumping pests!" He exclaimed in that robotic voice of his triumphantly, shooting plasma at one roach while torching another few.

"DeLoria!" Mr. Gomez exclaimed as he ran over with his pistol unholstered- or rather, it was _Officer_ Gomez now that he had his uniform slathered on.

"What?" He snapped, staring at the weapon. He hadn't seen _any_ of the officers actually hold their guns. Sure, they'd hold out their batons to intimidate the Tunnel Snakes into behaving- which didn't really work, in the end- but their _guns?_

Whatever was going on, it must have been _bad- _and he supposed now wasn't the best time to lip off...

"You're not supposed to be out of your apartment!" He called, pointing down the hall where he came. "Get back to your mother! Overseer's orders!"

"I don't give two _shits_ about the Overseer's orders!" He barked, face contorting into a deep grimace etched onto his thin lips. "I'm lookin' for my boys. We Tunnel Snakes gotta stick together!"

"Good gravy, not this _gang business_ again…" He rolled his eyes to the sky with the glint of "heaven forbid" in his sharp eyes, and he looked back to the Serpent King.

"If 'ya ain't gonna help me, I'll just go find 'em myself!" Butch snapped angrily, shoving past the officer to dart down the hall past the clinic.

"DeLoria, get _back_ here!" Gomez called after him, but sighed in defeat and shook his head as he watched the young adult's retreating back. He clutched his gun in his hand tightly.

"Good lord, may he forgive us now and save us all…"

Butch rushed down the halls, dancing with the sound of hissing Radroaches and that fucking _annoying_ Vault emergency alarm system that illuminated with revolving lights to boot. The usual Vault lights were dimmed down to accompany the emergency lights for the other Vault Dwellers- as if they couldn't see it with the white light rebounding off the walls and blinding them all...

Another body jumped into the hallway, running towards him, and he recognized the stride and face to be Wally's.

"Wally!" He exclaimed, halting his friend by collaring him before he could completely run past. "There 'ya are, man! Where the hell is Paul?"

"Fuck if I know, and fuck if I care." Wally shrugged, rolling his shoulders to shrug his jacket collar out of Butch's grip. "Ain't my problem. 'Course, he's prolly in his apartment trynna ride this out like the rest of us." He guessed.

He thought that it was the right answer- _everyone_ in this damn hole in the ground was told to wait in their homes or they would be dealt with by the Overseer- _severely-_ or some such bullshit like that.

"The hell?..." He furrowed his brows together with confusion. "The hell do you _mean_ it's not your problem? Paul's one of us!"

"Us? Not anymore, man! I ain't with the Tunnel Snakes!"

"_**What?**_" He was taken aback, having to do a double take to make sure he heard it right.

"This is really 'bout that crack doctor, ain't it?" He asked with a deep grimace.

"Dr. Parker?" Butch asked dumbly, tilting his head to the side.

"Yeah- I heard this was all his fault." His beady eyes darkened significantly. "Heard his bitch of a kid went after him. Her scrawny ass is gone too, man."

"'Eh, Whammy's _alotta_ things, but she ain't a bitch." He began to frown as well, in Winona's defense.

"She _ain't_ a bitch?" Wally snorted, absent of any hilarity. "Oh, my bad, man. She's a fuckin' _murderer!_"

Butch recalled how he saw her- wielding a baseball bat, hair and skin and jumpsuit and weapon stained with blood that _obviously _wasn't hers… He wondered how many people she beat with that. She was well-seasoned with its usage from many baseball practices, and he knew she had a _mean_ swing!

Whoever was on the beating end wasn't walking out of it with a pretty face, if they were to walk out _at **all**…_

"The fuck are you talking about, Mack?..." He asked sheepishly, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "Who'd she kill?"

"Whammy? _Tons_ of officers! And she tried to do in my brother!"

The Serpent King swallowed hard, paling significantly. All that blood that she was covered with… Could it _all _have been Stevie's?... Could she have just been coming back from mercilessly beating him into nothing but a bloody pulp and a sorry existence when she stumbled upon him and Dolly in the hallway?

"Did you see him?" He asked, and Wally shook his head. "So what'd 'ya hear?"

"She beat my brother's _face_ in and killed four other guards, can you _believe it?_" He seethed, fists rolling at his sides till his blunt fingernails dug into the butt of his palms and his knuckles turned bone white. "Who's gonna help my brother, man, what with our only doctor gone? Jonas is dead too! Who's gonna make sure he's _okay?_ His fucking nose is broken, he's blind, he's missing almost _all_ of his teeth, his lower jaw is shattered to shit… _Who's gonna __**fix him?**_"

"'Ey, don't get your panties all in a bunch, man!" Butch exclaimed sourly. "What the hell am _I _supposed to do 'bout it? I ain't no doctor!"

"No… But you're a two-faced bastard." He replied with impassive coldness, eyes narrowing down on him.

Butch clamped his lips together, keeping his mouth shut. He kind of believed that he knew what Wally meant, it didn't take a genius to figure it out… He let his brother's attacker go without so much as a slap on the wrist. But how the hell was _he_ supposed to know that she snapped and went off on an ass-kicking rampage?

"I heard it from Dolly, so don't bother lying to me!" Wally exclaimed, jabbing Butch in the chest. "You let that bitch _go!_ You coulda turned her in, but no, 'ya _had_ to let her walk!"

"She saved my ma!" He cried, shoving him away. "The hell was I gonna do? Hand her ass over to the Overseer?"

"Her and her father _killed us!_ Fires are breakin' out, the Radroaches are killin' everyone, so you think it's okay to let her walk just 'cause she saved your _mommy?_" He stepped up.

Butch shoved him back again. "Get the _fuck_ out of my face, Mack!"

"Make me, you little whiny bitch!" Wally shoved him again.

He retaliated by round-housing a rolled fist to his former best friend's jaw, causing him to stagger back and rub the afflicted area with blurred eyes of surprise.

"Tunnel Snake or not, I'll beat the living _snot_ outta 'ya!" Butch warned grimly, rolling his fist again despite his knuckles burning and aching like hell.

"…I'm gonna enroll on the security team so I can avenge my brother." He spoke after a while, brushing away the blood that began to roll from the split in his bottom lip. "I'm gonna work my way up- get back some respect from that fuckin' overseer and lead a team out of this dump to find her."

"The fuck, Mack!" He bellowed, shaking his shoulders as if trying to shake some sense into him. "You're supposed to be a Tunnel Snake! Tunnel Snakes are for _life,_ man! You're tellin' me with a straight face that you're gonna back out like a fuckin' _pussy _and join the other side? Whammy's gone anyways, man! Fuckin' _shit all _you can do about it now!"

"I don't care! I'm gonna enroll anyways, just for my brother!" Wally shrugged out of Butch's grasp, turning to run away.

"You fuckin' Radroach! Get back here!"

"Oh, and by the way," He began again, stopping at the end of the hall to shrug out of his leather jacket while keeping eye contact with Butch. "They've got Amata in custody. The Overseer's makin' her squeal 'bout that cunt she has for a best friend- he thinks she knows something 'cause she helped Winona escape. Heard he's gonna take Freddie the Freak in too, 'cause he was the last one to see her 'sides Amata."

As Wally turned to walk away, he threw his Tunnel Snakes jacket at the floor and ran off towards Gomez and Andy, asking if he could do anything to help. Gomez looked stunned but nodded, pointing off for something for him to do.

Butch stared down at the abandoned leather jacket, glaring at their infamous Tunnel Snake insignia patched onto the back. Tunnel Snakes were for life, weren't they? Not some stupid little kids group, but an actual bad-to-the-bone gang that would make anybody piss their pants and run?

_Shit…_ He seethed, rubbing the back of his neck. _Maybe Wally's right… Whammy fucked us __**all**__ up._

He shook his head of the thought, turning to continue running down the hallway in the direction he was originally going in. Wally didn't matter anymore- you drop out of the Tunnel Snakes, you're a deadbeat. He still had Paul, he could recruit some other guys into the group, couldn't he?

But the sound of familiar screaming made DeLoria's breath catch in his throat and his run turned into an exasperated sprint. He turned a corner, flying down a stairwell to land on his feet, before stumbling, and continued to run. He stopped in the doorway of one of the resident quarter apartments to see a tired flailing mass on the floor with two Radroaches jumping and hissing and nibbling. The flailing mass tried swatting them away to only have his hands bitten for trying to retaliate.

He saw a flash of familiar dark hair, dark skin, and a Tunnel Snakes jacket.

"_Butch!_" Paul cried, still flailing. "Help me!"

"I'm comin', man!" Butch exclaimed, running to one of the other rooms to get some sort of weapon. A baseball bat, a pipe- fuck, he'd use a Nuka-Cola bottle if it could help, but he found nothing that was of use. The remaining residents had anything useful with them, if it wasn't broken or trashed to shit.

Paul's screams continued to carry down the hallway.

"I'm comin', Paul!" He exclaimed again, running into another apartment to stop and swallow hard.

It was Winona's apartment, and there was a fucking _dead body _on the floor!

Butch covered his mouth, stumbling back into the hallway wall opposite of the open door. He gagged, feeling his throat tighten as the bile began to rise and he forced it back down with another hard swallow. He looked back to the body, it was a vault security guard.

A vault security guard with a _baton_ in his hand.

Trying to give himself some artificial courage, he darted into the room with his eyes closed and knelt down by the body. Gagging once more when his fingers pried apart the cold, dead fingers curled around the weapon, he got it free after a bit of fumbling and crawled back out into the hallway- literally. He was on his hands and knees. He got to his feet, opening his eyes to be greeted by the gleaming black nightstick smiling up at him. He smiled back at it, taking off down the hall.

He couldn't believe he was doing this, helping his best friend but refusing to help his mother when she was attacked by Radroaches only earlier that day. Maybe it was because it was more Radroaches present then, maybe it was because he was still confused and afraid when he heard someone bolted from the Vault, and maybe- in the backburner of his mind- he knew someone would come along and help…

He just didn't know it'd be Winona.

But he'd be lying if it didn't feel damn good to see her face… As bloody as it was…

Butch skidded into the room that contained Paul and the Radroaches and he began to swing down on the giant insects before he could even gain his balance. He smashed the head of one of them, snarling with disgust when it continued to function just as good as before its head went missing. He smashed the baton back down on its body- once, twice, then three times for good measure. It was only a twitching carcass now, bathing itself in its own green-yellow fluids that smelled like musty old socks.

He turned to the second one, kicking it away from Paul to have it catapult up into the air and smack into the wall with a sick _thump_. It slid down the wall, landing on its back with its crooked legs skirmishing about, trying to get back onto its feet. The vigorous flailing only caused it to slightly spin in circles on its back as it chirped and hissed at the useless effort.

With a loud, bellowing roar in an animalistic tone that Butch didn't know that he contained, he stomped his boot down on the center of its body- crushing it.

"How do 'ya like _that_ 'ya overgrown cockroach?" He howled, stomping again and again. "Tunnel Snakes eat Radroaches for breakfast! I'll chew you up and spit you _out!_"

When his anger-fueled abuse on the bug was done, he panted heavily, dropping the baton onto the ground with a loud, metallic clatter. He turned back to Paul, jaw dropping and eyes practically popping out of his skull at the horrific sight he saw.

Paul was covered in blood- lots and _lots_ of crimson contrasting against his smooth chocolate skin. Small dimples of aggravated skin from the bite marks were upraised, looking almost like open sores or bee stings clumped together. His clothes were tattered, ripped, and had many holes in them. But what horrified the Serpent King more than the fact that his friend was lying on the floor in such an unfortunate state, what horrified him more so was that it could _still_ get worse than that.

The flesh from the right side Paul's face was gone, exposing red muscle and ligaments and bloodied flesh from the angle of his jaw to his cheekbone. Two fingers were missing from his left hand, his ring and middle finger, and his pointer finger on his right hand was bitten down to the second joint. A deep, indented gash was on his left thigh- due to the fact that Butch had interrupted the roaches feasting on his friend and fellow Tunnel Snake.

"O- Oh shit, Paul… _Oh __**shit!**_" He cried hoarsely, grabbing fistfuls of jet black hair from the sides of his head and collapsed to his knees at his friend's side. "Fuck… Fuck, what do I _do?_"

Paul was trembling, tears streaking down his cheeks to make clean tracks through the blood that soaked them. He tilted his head slightly, looking up to Butch.

"Ne- Need a doctor… He c- ca- can fix me… _R- Right?_ Wham-mmy's dad… Can fi- fix me? Make- Make me better?... Keep me fr- from-?" He couldn't bring himself to say that terrifying word.

Butch could feel the tears coming to his eyes and he sniffled, wiping them away with the back of his sleeve as he pulled his friend into his lap.

"D- Dr. Parker's gone… So is Whammy, Paul." He choked on the truth in those words, trying to keep his eyes averted from the damage Paul had received, but he just couldn't seem to avert them from his missing fingers, the stringy dent in his thigh, the blood and tears streaking his face in horrific colors and shades of red… He tried to focus on his dark eyes, and it only made him choke back his tears more so.

"G- Gone?..." He asked in a far away voice as he trembled more, slowly letting his eyelids flutter closed as he whimpered softly. "Am I- gonna… _die,_ Butch?" He asked fearfully, the shake in his voice making it even more unbearable.

"No!" Butch shook his head quickly. "No…"

_Gotta do somethin'! Gotta help Paul!_ His mind screamed. _Gotta get help!_

But his mind also screamed at him to stay… Just in case- he couldn't let Paul die alone… Not like this!

"I- I'll get some supplies from the clinic!" He decided vocally, gently laying Paul back to the cold floor. "Stimpaks- Med-X is somethin' good too, right? Makes 'ya all numb so you can't feel a thing?"

Paul choked on his sobs, nodding as softly as he could without straining himself.

"H- Hurry back, m- man… Dunno how much lo- longer I can hold out…"

Butch nodded, jumping to his feet and taking off up the hallway, coming to the bottom of the stairs to bolt up them two by two- occasionally causing him to trip- but he kept on going.

_Gotta do somethin'!_ His mind echoed.

He turned a corner, ran down the hall with the smell of roasting musty old socks wafting into the air, and he skidded to a halt in front of the clinic to run inside. He ran to the nearest gleaming rolling table, shuffling through its contents to look for the supplies he needed on its top and in its drawers.

_Gotta help Paul!_ His mind echoed once again as he found a single syringe of Med-X.

He ran to another cart, trying to find more things to take. He found another two syringes of Med-X, and only one Stimpak. He feared it wouldn't be enough and ran into the office at the back of the clinic, catching the med-kit on the far wall and ran towards it. He ripped the lid off to have some Stimpaks and more syringes of Med-X clatter onto the floor. He picked them up, carrying them in his arms as he ran out of the clinic, back down the hall, turned another corner, down the stairs, and down another hall.

_I __**can**__ help him!_ He pushed himself onward with a burst of energy powering his legs from a frantic run into a determined sprint.

But once he got to the doorway of the apartment Paul was lying in, he saw that his eyes were no longer closed, but slightly open to gaze at him with a dead stare between hooded eyelids. There was no whimpering in the air. His friend's body no longer trembled in fear, gushing blood and betraying him with what looked like almost unimaginable pain and agony.

All the supplies dropped out of his arms, clattering to the floor with hollow thumps and thuds and he followed, collapsing to his knees as well with his head in his hands, his own shoulders trembling as he took on fearful whimpering in Paul's place.

Butch tried to do _something._

He_ tried_ to help Paul because no one else could or would, but in the end- he couldn't…

He was too late.

He was too damn _late!_

And, just maybe, agreeing with Wally about Winona fucking everything up didn't seem like such a bad idea right now.


	12. CHP 12: What Is Owed

**A/N: I know... I KNOOOOOW! D: I forgot to post last week AND yesterday... Silly me =3=" Not a very good way to get back into the swing of things, neh?**

**Anyways, the chapter didn't come out so good, so I'll probably rewrite it for you guys xD I have TONS of time to, now that I'm on Christmas break :3**

**If I am unable to give a shout-out to you guys on Christmas, well... MELE KALIKIMAKA! (Merry Christmas in Hawaiian, for those of you who DIDN'T know ;D)**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Winona pushed through the door of Megaton's neighborhood bar, Moriarty's Saloon, a crack and poked her head in timidly. Widget sat perched on her head, legs tangled in her straight silvery hair while clicking with despair. She looked up at her terrified invention.<p>

"I know, I know..." She murmured, petting her gently as she stepped into the bar and let the door swing shut behind her. "But the man at the front gate said dad might be in here- he said he saw him disappear in here."

Widget clicked again, more out of suspicion than anything.

"I didn't know dad was a drinker either." She dead panned, gazing around with pure curiosity as she staggered over to the bar. She tried to avoid the eyes that fixated on her in unwelcomed stares, and some of the patrons actually got up and left with disgusted looks on their faces.

Winona brushed her hair nervously. She looked _nothing_ like the people on the outside... But hell, she wasn't worried about that when she ran through the wooden door at the end of Vault 101's entrance corridor and burst through it to have the blazing, white-hot sunlight bleach her retinas.

The purifying light faded, cleansing her of who she was and letting her become a whole new person, and she saw nothing but barren Wasteland.

Barren Wasteland for miles and _miles._

But that could have been what someone else saw- because all _Winona_ saw was a wide plane of adventure, exploration, and discoveries. She saw new opportunities push up to her, greeting her feet like fresh spring daisies as she shouldered the pack on her back that contained Gizmo. He was currently a work in progress.

Thinking about Gizmo caused her to pat the bottom of her backpack lovingly, and the contents inside shifted with metallic thumps against one another. She didn't know what was out in the Wasteland, so she didn't know what to brave herself for.

But what she saw standing behind the bar?

She _certainly_ couldn't have braved herself for that!

...Whatever _that_ was...

The thing turned around, and a tinge of something rancid rapped her on the nose unpleasantly. She tried to fend it off by acting politely and smiling kindly- but she couldn't help but feel a horrified (or maybe sympathetic) twitch come to their corners.

It was a man- but a man with no _skin._ He looked like someone had peeled most of his flesh off to leave brown splotches, revealing the pink and red muscles underneath. They flexed as he wiped down a dirty glass with a dirty rag, tensing and releasing like a bunch of rubber bands, and she couldn't help but stare in awe with her jaw dropped.

Not until he spoke up in a hoarse voice that reminded her of a stone grinder did she realize he was staring _straight_ back at her.

"You wanna order something, smoothskin?" He asked, a little defensively.

"Uh- No... N- No thank you." She murmured, shaking her head as Widget chirped with fascination mixed with horror. "I- uhm... Are you, by any chance, Moriarty?"

The unfortunate man seemed offended, but the emotion in his eyes faded as he looked up to Widget with his brow furrowing with concern. Winona grabbed the little ladybug bot and pushed down on her eye to turn her off, then shoved her deep into her Vault suit pocket and patted the bulk through the cloth safely. She took a second to look around the bar, and no one that she knew or wanted to know stood out to her.

Her father wasn't here anymore...

"I'm not Moriarty. The name's Gob, smoothskin. I just clean up the place and hand out the drinks."

"Smooth- _Smoothskin?_" She echoed with a slimy feeling crawling up her spine. What was that supposed to mean?

"You know," He eyed her suspiciously. "Because your skin is smooth compared to mine?"

"O- Oh." Her face flushed with embarrassment. "I'm- not from around here..."

"I can tell. That outfit's gonna get you killed you know," He nodded to her jumpsuit before turning away to wipe down the bar. "And that toy of yours. Raiders could think it's valuable and worth killing you to take."

The embarrassed blush in her face turned pasty white with dread.

"L- Look, if you could _please_ tell me where this Moriarty guy is, I'll get out of your hair." She tensed. "I- I mean-!"

"Don't sweat it, kid." He gave her a reassuring smile. "You're from the vault up the road, right?"

She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Y- Yeah... I'm looking for my father. Have you seen him?"

"Haven't seen any lost dads around Megaton- I don't leave the bar. I'm not allowed to... Oh, wait-" He paused, swallowing hard and ducked his head. "N- Never mind...

She shot him a quizzical glance.

"I think it's best you talk to Moriarty about that." He spoke finally.

Winona stared him down warily. "My father's about fifty- grey hair, blue eyes? Hopefully he was wearing a vault suit like mine when he came through. Lucas Simms told me he was, and that he saw my dad come into here. Please- did you see him?"

He kept his head down and scurried away to another customer to attend to their needs. She followed him, daring to step behind the bar.

"_Please!_ I need to find him, he's out there somewhere and he could get _killed!_" She cried out in horror. The raised volume of her voice caused some people to stop drinking and look up in awe.

The back door behind Gob swung open, and out stepped a man with shaggy white hair, a salt and pepper beard, and sporting a slightly noticeable beer belly came out with a menacing sneer on his face. He smacked poor Gob upside the head.

"I bought 'ya so ye could attend to me loyal customers! Not shoot the wind with any pretty face that walks through!" He barked, and Gob hurried away to take more orders before the man turned to her with suspicion and interest lurking in his beady eyes. He smelled musty and of worn leather, with a hint of cigars. He smelled like his bar.

"What's so important that ye be botherin' Gob for, lass? He's gotta job to do- a job that makes _me_ money! The more time 'ya spend talkin', the less he gets paid, and the lighter me pockets feel by day's end!" Winona opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. "Well? Whaddya want? Spit it out!"

She cringed at his hasty manner, but kept her mouth shut to keep from commenting.

"I'm looking for my father. Middle-aged, blue eyes, grey hair... Maybe wearing a vault suit like mine when he came through here? I don't know..." Her voice trailed off as she tugged on the collar of her jumpsuit uncomfortably, noticing that it was damp with sweat. The small saloon was _extremely_ stuffy and dry!

His eyes widened, and a devilish grin crossed his face.

"Well now, why didn't ye say so in the _first place_, darlin'?" She opened her mouth to explain that it was because he cut her off, but he did so _again _before she could get a single word out. "Come on back 'ere and Uncle Moriarty will be at your undivided attention!"

"Un- _Uncle_ Moriarty?..." Her eyes widened with fear as he wrapped an arm over her shoulders and began to guide her to the back room. She tried digging her heels into the floor to keep her from moving forward, but all they did was slide over the dingy metal effortlessly.

"You're James' kid?" He asked as he shoved her into the back room, gave Gob a hard glance and a snarl that signaled that he should return with his work, then shut the door with a light slam.

"Ye- Yeah!" She cried, twirling around to look at him. She was surprised that he knew her father's name... Is he really her uncle? Or was he just being playful? "My name's Winona."

"Hmn..." He stroked his beard contemplatively, and smirked a little. "By God, it's hard to believe you're all grown up! Persistent little flower, aren't ye? Then _and_ now, it would seem... I'm not surprised, darlin'."

"Wait-..." She blinked, confused. "_Then?_ Have- we met, before?..." She asked in broken words, having difficulty swallowing as it felt like her tongue swelled up- then _dried_ up- in her sticky mouth.

"Sure as I kin remember 'ya! But you seem a wee less talkative than the last time you 'n dear da came strollin' through here." He eyed her peculiarly, then plopped down on the rolling chair in front of what looked like a terminal built into the wall. "Musta been... Oh- almost twenty years ago, now!"

"_You're __**lying!**_" Winona screeched with wide eyes, hands curled tightly into fists at her sides, and she hadn't noticed until now that she was shaking.

"What was that?" Moriarty asked defensively.

"You- You're lying..." She murmured, lowering her chin so she stared at the floor. "Please... Don't lie to me... I- I just want to find my father!"

The room was quiet, so quiet if a pin dropped the sound it created would have been as deafening as an airplane's turbine, but it was broken by Moriarty chuckling. She whipped her eyes up to see him shaking his head and- and _smiling_ of all things!

"I got nothin' t'gain by lyin' to 'ya, lass." He shrugged. "But it seems that ye just wanna git down to business- 'n Uncle Moriarty is nothin' if he ain't a businessman."

"You- You'll _help_ me?" She murmured with shock. "You _will?_"

"Of course, lass- but it doesn't come without a price t'pay. Information is a good, I sell goods, and these goods come with a price tag! One-hundred caps should be fair 'nuff."

"Caps?..."

Now it was _his_ turn to look shocked.

"Ye don't know what caps are?" The smile began to creep back into his face.

"I- I'm assuming money... But all I have is some paper bills." She dug into her pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, then looked down when something else landed on the floor with a heavy _thunk._ Moriarty looked over as well.

Widget fell out of her pocket, on her face, and immediately buzzed into life and darted up into the air to chirp and buzz at Winona angrily for turning her off.

"The _fuck_ is that thing?" Moriarty asked cautiously, pointing a finger at her.

Widget spun around to gawk at Moriarty, chittered in horror, then darted behind Winona to hide in her hair.

"U- Um... Her name's Widget." She swallowed hard, petting the bot who sat on her shoulder. "I built her when I was twelve, back in the vault."

"I see then..." He stroked his beard thoughtfully, getting up to walk towards her. "What kin the thing do?"

"Widget? Uhm, not much, really... She was supposed to help clean up my messes, but she was better at _destroying_ things, so I- _hey!_"

Moriarty grabbed Widget on her shoulder by her tin wings and examined her closely. She shivered in his grasp, holding her two front legs up over her eyes as if she were trying- but ultimately failing- to hide from him.

"This thing looks like it's worth a shiny cap…" He continued stroking his beard as a dim light bulb seemed to flash above his head. "How much?"

"H- How- _what?_" Winona's eyes widened in horror.

Widget bit Moriarty's finger to get him to let go and quickly fled to safety behind Winona, trembling like a blind, newborn calf.

"I said how much, lass." He rubbed the soreness out of his bitten finger. "Ye tweak that thing so it's a bit more… _compliant, _and I'll be singin' a song prettier than you kin _ever_ imagine 'bout yer da. 'Ave we got a deal?"

"N- No, Mr. Moriarty, we do _not_ have a deal!" She held Widget to her chest protectively. "I'd rather go out and look for him myself than give you Widget! She's all I have left now!"

"So yer da doesn't count fer somethin'?" He sneered, stepping towards her. "I'm sure we could… _Negotiate_ a wee bit, heh?"

"A- Anything but Widget…" She murmured and nodded. "Anything but her."

"Hmm…" He began to stroke his beard again, then scratched his chin. "Well, there _is_ one thing…"

Moriarty looked to Winona to see if she was interested. The moment the words came out of his mouth, she turned Widget off and slipped her back into her jumpsuit pocket so she wouldn't have any distractions.

"This druggie bitch owes me a Brahmin load and a _half_ of shiny caps, and Uncle Moriarty don't like t'be crossed now, see?" He plopped back down in his computer chair, leaning back in it to twiddle his thumbs in his lap. "Ye git me what's owed- 'n I'll harp about yer dad."

"Who am I looking for?" She asked, sitting down on a metal box in the corner so she could sit down. She shifted uncomfortably, as the backpack resting on her shoulders made her muscles ache with how heavy it was. She would need some place safe to put Gizmo and rest up soon.

"Her name's Silver. Used to work for me, but decided that runnin' free 'n shootin' up was the life she wanted to live- but thought it was _smart_ t'take me money and use it to fund the life she wanted. I don't like bein' double-crossed," He eyed her like a hungry vulture would eye its trembling prey, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "Ye best take lesson from the bitch, lass."

Winona nodded politely. "Where can I find her?"

"Gotta few whispers that she's holed up down in Springvale, out of Megaton and down the road. Ye may 'ave passed through it?"

She held up her Pip-Boy and scrolled through the map. She found a marker with a picture of crumbling buildings, and below it said _"Springvale"_ in bold lettering.

"I may have," She responded and looked up at him. "How much does she owe?"

Moriarty smiled, but to Winona, it was the ugliest thing she had ever seen in her life.

"Take whatever she's got on her, and _that's_ what she owes me."


	13. CHP 13: The Fastest Cure?

**A/N: The fastest cure is a bottle of whiskey- and I think Butch is starting to walk in his mother's footsteps :3 Hey all! Konfessionist here, and I hope you enjoy this new chapter! Fanfiction business has been slow lately :/ But oh well -shrugs- what CAN you do? xD**

**Anyways, I hope Butch doesn't come off as OOC (I was worried that I had managed to do that here...) And that you enjoy the newest chapter!**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

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><p>Butch sat on the couch in his disheveled living room. Well, he had to flip it back upright first and replace all the cushions so he <em>could<em> sit down... But once he did, it felt like all his muscles went rigid, and it kept him from finding a comfortable seating position.

He continued to shift and shift,

_**GOD!**__ Do these cushions have __**rocks**_ _in 'em, er somethin'?_

He held his head in his hands, afraid to close his eyes because all he saw was Paul there-

_I coulda helped you, man! I coulda __**saved**__ 'ya!_

He had to shift again- and then again because the couch was made out of fucking _**rocks,**_

"_Ne- Need a doctor… He c- ca- can fix me… __**R- Right?**__ Wham-mmy's dad… Can fi- fix me? Make- Make me better?... Keep me fr- from-?"_

Butch couldn't take it anymore. With an angry howl he lunged up from the couch and sent his foot flying into the air, feeling the toes of his boots connect with the underside of the coffee table in front of him. It went sailing and smashed into the window, falling to the floor in a loud clatter.

It wasn't good enough. He needed to break something, _destroy_ something, fucking _massacre __**something! ANYTHING! **__Anything..._ If it just kept Paul's broken body and his broken voice and his broken soul out of his mind...

He picked up the vase from the side table. It had fake flowers in it, but his mother still deemed it as _appropriate_ to put water in the damn thing. _Everyone _knew it was fake, it was no fucking surprise!

Butch heaved it at the wall as hard as he could, watching it shatter with a melodious sound before the aftermath followed it. Porcelain shards tinkled onto the floor, sliding in every which direction it could spread to as water beads dropped onto his face and jumpsuit with little flicks. The fake flowers rested in a puddle of water on the floor.

He picked up another vase in the far corner with more fake flowers, repeating his symphony of shattering porcelain, flecks of water, and the flowers were at his feet this time. He stomped a boot down on them, grinding his heel until they were nothing but misshapen wax petals, clean wires bent out of their protective plastic stems and crummy paper leaves.

Then, he turned to the clock on the wall. He tore it right off its nails and threw it on the floor, smashing its glass face before stomping down on it repeatedly.

With his breathing heavy and coming in long inhales and exhales, he straightened up, bringing his hands up to pop the collar on his leather jacket-

His breath hitched in his throat as his hands slowly dropped down to his sides limply.

There was no collar for him to pop.

He gave his jacket to Winona.

He _gave_ his Tunnel Snakes jacket to Winona!

...He _gave _his Tunnel Snakes jacket to Winona, because she had saved his mother without a second thought...

Butch slowly, almost shamefully, trailed his eyes to the bedroom door where his mother resided- probably still out cold from all the drinking she did. Unless she was drinking more, right now, and ignoring the noises that came with his rage. He was prone to throwing fits when he was angry as a child, and she'd always drown it out with booze or by smacking him across the face before sending him to his room to think about the plate he broken or think about the dent in the wall because he punched it or think about all the curse words he spewed. Most of them he had learned from her, anyways.

His fingers slowly curled into his palms, as if he were making a fist, but slowly uncurled to hang at his sides again. He was no longer angry... Why wasn't he? He _should_ be angry, shouldn't he?

The only life he ever knew was destroyed by Radroaches, fires, a fucking _crazy_ Overseer- and it was all orchestrated by the vault's one and only doctor- James Parker. He couldn't help but wonder if Winona may have had a hand in it, too- after what Wally told him about the guards she killed and how she mutilated Stevie's face.

The thought of Wally brought their earlier argument back to mind...

"_Fuck if I know, and fuck if I care. Ain't my problem. 'Course, he's prolly in his apartment trynna ride this out like the rest of us."_

Butch's hands began to roll into tight palms at his sides as he slowly began to grow angry again.

"_**The hell?...The hell do you **_**mean **_**it's not your problem? Paul's one of us!"**_

His shoulders began to tremble, and he could feel his lips parting as he bared his teeth and began to snarl with his brows crinkling together.

"_Us? Not anymore, man! I ain't with the Tunnel Snakes!"_

"_She__** ain't**__ a bitch? Oh, my bad, man. She's a fuckin' __**murderer!**__"_

"_She beat my brother's __**face**__ in and killed four other guards, can you __**believe it?**__ Who's gonna help my brother, man, what with our only doctor gone? Who's gonna make sure he's __**okay?**__ His fucking nose is broken, he's blind, he's missing almost __**all **__of his teeth, his lower jaw is shattered to shit… __**Who's gonna **_**fix him?**"

"_**Butch! **__Help me!"_

"_**NO!**_**" **He howled like an animal, spinning on his heel to face the wall where he stood and pulled his fist back, just to find something to punch-

And he stopped at what he saw.

In the mirror on the wall, he saw his face- _his_ expression, contorted into animalistic rage and infuriation... He knew it was his face, he was standing _right_ in front of that mirror, but for a second he didn't recognize who the person was that glared back at him. He, for a moment, actually thought to himself; "_Who's that crazy kid?_"

But what horrified him even more than the curled fist that was pulled back, waiting to be told to connect with something sturdy so he could unleash his anger, even more than the twisted and angry expression, even _more_ than the intense blue eyes that glowered back at him...

It was the tears that streamed from those stone-cold eyes.

_"I'll help her." _Winona called in the front of his mind.

His tight brow unfurled in the mirror.

_"I need to get going. I'll see you around Butch."_

His lips pursed together, covering back over his gleaming, _snarling,_ white teeth.

_"I'm leaving the Vault. I need to find my father."_

His curled fist loosened his numb fingers, and it willingly dropped to his side as if someone had put a lead weight in it.

_"I have to Butch. I don't have a choice… The Overseer could kill me."_

He forced his shoulders to stop trembling as he took an uneven step forward- than another, and another, until he reached the mirror. He lightly touched the reflective glass, smearing his fingertips over the broken, melancholy, and impassively _crying_ image of his face that stared back at him.

_"Because if I die out there, I'm coming back to haunt your scaly serpent ass."_

He smiled a little to himself, giving a hoarse chuckle. That was the first time he ever heard Winona swear in the _slightest_... Guess the doctor's goody-goody two-shoes daughter wasn't as goody-goody as he thought?

_"Butch, please take care of yourself…"_

The smile disappeared from his face, and he forced himself to stare into the blank, cool blue eyes that were his. Tears continued to stream down them, sliding down his cheeks to reach his jaw line before dripping off onto the collar of his off-white undershirt to stain it a darker shade.

_"Butch..._" Winona seemed to whisper in his ear.

When he averted his eyes from his reflection, looking at something else in the mirror, they widened in horror (_maybe relief?_) as he saw Winona standing behind him over his shoulder. There was no blood on her, she had no bloodied bat, she looked serene and not melancholy like the last time they saw each other…

She was... she was _smiling_ at him?

"_Winona?_" He muttered, spinning around to find that she wasn't there.

With a heavy weight in his chest, he dared to look back at the mirror. Winona wasn't there _at __**all **_anymore. He reverted his eyes to the place where she once stood.

_Jus' my imagination..._

But in her place, where his imagination had her stand behind him, was a simple wood cabinet. It was his mother's cabinet, it had all her booze in it.

That's when a thought clicked on in his head.

She _never_ locked it, even when he was a kid. But back then, he had no interest in drinking because he feared it was evil juice that would turn him into his mother. He knew better now that he was older, as once or twice he'd swipe a bottle of vodka or a few beer bottles and smuggle them out to Paul and Wally and Dolly, where they drank the bottles down without talking- out of fear that someone would actually pipe up and break the silence by admitting how _terrible_ liquor tasted. It was like an unwritten rule the four had as Tunnel Snakes, and yes, Dolly was a Tunnel Snake- but that was only because she sucked him off.

Swallowing back the lump in his throat (which he was positive that it was his tongue shriveled up back there to hangout and become buddies with his uvula), Butch took a steady step forward. Then another, and another, before dropping to his knees in front of the liquor cabinet. He flicked up the latch, opened the double doors, and peered into its glorious confines as the bottles clinked against one another from being disturbed.

He scanned his eyes over all the bottles. There was a lot of selection, his mother was an alcohol _guru_ or something, but you never would have guessed because the bottles were either clear or brown glass, and a few lacked labels, but his mother seemed to know exactly what each bottle contained.

Butch let his eyes flitter from label to label on the bottles faces, wanting to down something that was strong but not too strong. Then, they fell upon the bottle of _Olde Royale Premium Whiskey._ He grabbed it from the shelf, gazing at the little face that stared back at him on the corner of the worn label. It was an outline of an older man's face, with thinning hair on his head but a thick beard on his chin.

He got up to his feet, still holding the bottle in his hands with rigid fingers. He was pressing them to the cool glass so hard, his fingertips were turning bone white.

With an uneven sigh, he wiped his cheeks dry with the help of the butts of his palms and turned to the bedroom. He waved his hand to the console and stepped in, glancing to his mother's bed to find her curled up in the fetal position with a vodka bottle hugged to her chest. She was snoring in a puddle of alcohol.

Butch wasn't necessarily surprised that his mother was still asleep, and it wasn't the first time she slept in a bath of liquor. She'd probably throw a fit when she woke up, though- and complain that it was a complete waste of the good stuff and ask him why he didn't take the bottle and put it someplace safe when she fell asleep and probably try to hit him.

But he was a grown man, and although he'd _never_ hit his mother- no matter _what_ she did to him- he'd stop her from hurting him ever again. Maybe even yell at her to get his point across? She _could_ be deaf at times…

He shook his head at the thought and plopped down on the floor at the side of his bed, gazing at the dried smears of Radroach juices that remained on the floor. He tried cleaning the mess up as best he could before laying his mom to bed because she had refused to sleep in the room till the corpses were gone, but he couldn't find any Abraxo Cleaner (as his mom _never_ cleaned), and didn't think about dropping by the storage room to grab some while he was looking for Wally and Paul.

_Wally and Paul... Paul and Wally..._ He mused, their names rolling around in his mind as he uncorked the whiskey bottle and slugged back a moderate sip. As it settled to a dull burn in the back of his throat, he let out a satisfied yet slightly pained sigh as a fresh layer of tears rolled to his eyes.

_Wally and Paul... Paul and Wally... Paul's dead, and Wally's just dead to me._ He thought grimly as he slugged back another sip of the amber liquid and let his eyelids flutter closed.

_Tunnel Snakes rule..._ He sang mentally, almost with a somber tune to it. _Birth to Earth, womb to tomb... Paulie said that a lot, didn't he?_

Butch tossed back another hit.

_Not sayin' much no mores… Are 'ya, Paulie?_ He finally opened his eyes a fraction. _Promise me your gonna start the Tunnel Snakes again- where ever 'ya are, buddy…_

He took a deep inhale of the air around him- smelling of stale alcohol, which was his mother, and-… was that-?...

His eyes snapped wide open as he sniffed at the air again.

"_Butch, please take care of yourself…"_

It was lilac's… His room smelled like that when Winona got smacked around by his mother, after saving her. She had fallen onto his bed…

"Winona…" He took a deep inhale, then drowned himself with a chug of whiskey that was such a large quantity, he was sure it would have given him liver failure in a snap of a second.

He wondered if drinking his problems away temporarily was a violation of one of the last few words they had exchanged with each other?

Right now, he didn't really care. His world, the world he once knew of shitty algebra homework, perfecting the art of paper airplanes to see he could shoot them the farthest (or more specifically, see who could hit Amata or Winona since they were at the very front of the room and they were all the way in the back), and hanging out in the diner- maybe even screwing around with Dolly.

The Tunnel Snakes had gone extinct with Paul dead and Wally abandoning them because of Winona. Now it was just him and Dolly, and fuck all- he didn't wanna be alone with her after what had happened before Winona showed up…

He gave a sloppy smirk. Shit, it must be the whiskey, but he had another thought- he was thinking about the little pip-squeak _a lot_ for the last few minutes… Yeah, it had to be the whiskey. It didn't matter if he was thinking about her before the first drop- he'd write it off as the liquor coursing through him anyways.

Then, a final thought struck him as he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep, letting the whiskey bottle slip out of his loose gingers and clatter to the floor to stain the rug and the pants legs of his jumpsuit.

_He was alone. _Completely and _utterly_ alone…

No Paul.

No Wally.

No Dolly (he could live with that).

No Amata (fuck if he'd ever turn to her).

Freddie the Freak could hide in a whole for all he fucking cared.

And no-… _No __**Winona.**_

If he hadn't fallen asleep, he would have wondered why the hit of her absence stung just as much as watching Paul die before his very eyes.


	14. CHP 14: An Angel With A Fedora PART 1

**A/N: I KNOOOOOW! I'm sorry D: I forgot to post last week... hmph :/! BUT! I'll make it up to you guys NEXT tuesday (the 17th) with TWO chapters! Huh? You guys still love me? :3 I hope you do! -makes heart with hands-**

**Just to be clear, THIS is PART ONE of CHP 14: An Angel With A Fedora so next week PART TWO will be posted along with another chapter of Butch from inside Vault 101 :3 I won't leave you guys hanging! -determined face-**

**Also, I hope I can ask for your help, readers... I'm writing a new fanfic based around All Grown Up Bryan Wilks from Grayditch, and I'd like some feedback. It was ORIGINALLY supposed to be a two-shot, but I think I have some material that could work EXTREMELY well with it. Please read it and comment on whether or not it should be continued, please! Much obliged ;3**

**Anyways, enough rambling- ON WITH THE SHOW!**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Winona staggered into Megaton, clutching her side and breathing heavily as she leaned her dirt smeared forehead into the cool metal of the town's wide open doors. She had never been so happy to see people in her life! Well, people that weren't threatening to kill her, anyways…<p>

She came to Springvale, running into some squishy pink creature with large fangs and gnarly claws that tried to bite her. She attempted to run away, but when Widget bit the creature on its stubby tail, it spun around and ran away out of fear. So she just stood there, staring at the little bot with her jaw on the floor as she bounced about arrogantly.

Of course, Widget wasn't so brave when they ran across two people- a man and woman- with strange hairstyles in eccentric colors, clothes thick with plates of armor, and both smelled of something rancid that died twice over. She would have wondered if they were the "Raiders" that Gob mentioned, but wasn't given enough time to mull the thought over as they chased her around the small and decrepit Pre-War town.

After a few minutes of a literal chase of two cats against one mouse, she hid behind a rock to wait it out- mostly hoping that they'd get bored and go away. She wasn't necessarily equipped to take on a bunch of yahoos wielding guns while she had a little bat to herself. Widget slipped out of her sights after a few heart wrenching moments of hiding, and began to harass the two Raiders when they weren't paying attention- tying together the shoelaces of the man as a distraction then pulling the pin on a grenade the woman had on her belt.

Winona gave herself a moment to catch her breath, but she was _pretty_ sure she beckoned any creature or other Raiders that were scattered around within a mile radius when a bloodied leg (minus the body) fell into her lap, seemingly from the heavens, which caused her to scream for all she was worth. She then shoved it off and proceeded to vomit all over the rock she was hiding behind.

She was _still_ shaking from how hard she was heaving.

After she finished emptying her stomach, she continued searching for the druggie Moriarty called Silver. She had found the woman holed up in the only standing house in Springvale, and she was given a lovely greeting of having a pistol shoved against her head.

Winona had to quickly and _carefully_ (the woman had a freaking _gun_ pressed to her head- she didn't want to say something that would set her off) explain why she was there in the first place. Silver put away her weapon and they got into a deep discussion over her time working as a prostitute under Moriarty.

According to Silver, she worked for Moriarty "doing favors for guys," and at first it was all fine and dandy- until she got tired of being looked at and purchased like a slab of meat in a deli. She resorted to "bugging out" (she stopped in the midst of her story to explain that it meant overloading on any drugs she could get her hands on, like a kid in an _enormous_ candy store) to keep the swelling emotions at bay. After a while, she had an epiphany while testing Jet one night and decided that she couldn't take working as a druggie stiff under the Irishman any longer, so she marched straight up to him and demanded what was rightfully hers so she could leave. Moriarty agreed, claiming that the best way to seal the deal was by having a rough tumble through his sheets, but in the morning he denied her the money and said she couldn't leave. So she hatched a two-part plan. Part One was to get the money and run, while Part Two was to get clean and go someplace safe. She only made it through Part One successfully- dominating Part Two, she claimed, "is as easy as wrangling a mad Brahmin with a pan and half a brain."

Well, Winona didn't know what a Brahmin was, but either way she thought the phrasing was strange. She figured that even _with_ half a brain you'd be able to knock out whatever a Brahmin was with your pan, right?

With all quizzical thoughts aside, Winona reviewed the stories she was given. Moriarty laid claim his side before she left Megaton- _"she worked for me, decided to wriggle her ass out of it and backstab me in the process before running off."_ Silver's story added up to the bits and pieces she had received, but in _her_ side, all her actions had been rightly justified and seemed to make just as much sense as her phrasing about mad Brahmins, pans, and an unfortunate soul with only half a brain.

Needless to say, the inventor didn't know _who_ to believe. Her gut told her to hold true to Silver, but her mind told her, in its weird and complicated God-forsaken way, that _both_ were telling the truth from what their minds deciphered from the events. In the end, she took allegiance under Silver and called it a day. She told the ex-prostitute to keep her caps, put them to good use in an effort to kick her addiction of "bugging out" and that she'd make up some lame-ass (but at the same time, plausible) story about not being able to find her or the caps she owed Moriarty.

So as she waved goodbye to the ex-prostitute, who seemed wholeheartedly stunned that a random girl working for a slob like Moriarty would actually cut her some slack and even let her keep _all_ of her caps. Winona commented that, according to her side of the story, the caps _were_ hers- _not Moriarty's_- so she had no right to take them back to the Irishman. She left the astounded woman without even dropping her name- only leaving her with a new hope, and a grateful memory of a peculiar young adult with silvery hair, wide lavender eyes, and a ladybug robot riding on her shoulder.

Winona couldn't help but swell up with pride at the thought of only being out of Vault 101 for barely a day and she had already done something _right_ and good-natured.

Of course, the pride was short lived as a small Raider group stalked out of the nearby school- looking for the man and woman that Widget had obliterated to pieces, no doubt- and chased her all the way back to Megaton when they saw what remained of their comrades drying out on the pavement under the sun.

It was night now in Megaton. She led the Raiders back to the town, let the sniper and the strange cowboy robot at the door pick them off, and then hurried inside once the fighting was over.

Winona gave a wry chuckle as she straightened up and took a step forward, but the instant she did her vision went hazy and she fell to her hands and knees. She barely heard the steady footfalls coming up the path towards her as she removed her hand from her side and gazed in blurry horror at the crimson blob that slithered through her fingers.

_Blood._

_I was shot._

_**When was I shot?**_

With Widget clicking around her head in terror, Winona fell face first into the dirt in a loose attempt at the fetal position, bat clattering away from her as the figure walking up the metal path stopped at her side. Whoever it was flung a smoldering cigarette onto the ground near her face, and then ground it out with the heel of a shoe.

It was a man's shoe.

The figure was a _man._

As a stretching blackness began to tunnel her vision to small pinpoints, all she felt was her body being swept up from the ground and into sturdy arms, curled against a broad chest as the man turned and began walking towards the center of the town.

"I'm taking you to the town's clinic. Do you have any money on you to pay for the medical services?" Called a voice- heeding no accent but whomever this man was he spoke properly and with a tone of high authority- that or he was arrogant. It sounded like a bit of both.

"N- No…" The negative shake of her head was barely noticeable, her voice barely above a mental stirring. She didn't know if she actually said anything at all to the man who was carrying her.

"Do not fret, my dear girl. You are in good hands."

"Go- Good-… _hands?..._ Si- Sir… Who a- are-?..."

Before Winona passed out, all she could spot in the dimming light was a fedora, dark circular glasses, a smartly tailored suit, and a toothy grin that reminded her of the wolf she wanted to model Gizmo after.

"Please…" The grin deepened to a dangerous level, as if it would have spit up acid onto her at that very moment. At that moment, the man truly _did _look like a hungry wolf. "Call me Mister Burke."

-:-

Winona woke up with a start, her heart throbbing in her chest and a thick sweat clung her silvery bangs to her chilled forehead. The blinding white light fixated above her caused her to cringe and jerk up her right arm to shield her eyes, making her cringe again at the pain that riddled up her right side. She gave a gentle look down to see Widget sleeping peacefully on her stomach like a purring cat, and that her torso was all bandaged up. It wrapped from her navel to her collarbone, then sleeved around her right shoulder. The bandage sleeve and a small part of her right side were tinted with slight scarlet, feeling crusty and thick as she probed it with trembling fingers for experimentation.

"Wi- Widget…" She mumbled hoarsely as if her dry throat was on the verge of closing up, lifting her head again and pet the ladybug bot to wake her. "Widget?... W- Wake- _Wake up…_"

Widget clicked her tongue in refusal, shooing away any attempt to resurrect her and rolled over onto her back, plump belly to the ceiling with her legs sprawled around her sides, and she snored peacefully. Winona smiled weakly down at her companion, and began to rub her belly in small and soft circles.

"Glad to see you're finally awake," Her eyes panned over to a voice from the corner opposite of her bed. "You can start paying me back for patching you up by cleaning all the blood you got on my floor, kid."

"Mi- Mister Burke?..." She murmured, trying to sit up.

"Fuck no." He sounded offended. He leaned forward, placing a hand on her unbandaged shoulder and laid her back to bed gently- but forcefully. As his face cleared away from the shadows of the corner, she saw that it was a dark-skinned man with graying hair and a piercing look in his beady eyes. He looked like someone you didn't want to get into a gun fight with, because he would surely win before it even began by stealing your weapons from right out under your nose.

"Was I- _dreaming,_ then?..." She closed her eyes to keep from peering up into the bright light bulb that swung around above her head.

"Not at all. The smug bastard dropped you onto the bed and paid for your treatment." The beady-eyed man replied with a shake of his head, then got up to grab something that was hanging off the back of the chair he was sitting in and tossed them to her. It was her undershirt, and her-

Winona's eyes widened in horror at the light pink bra that was draped over her stomach- flecked over the cups and one thick strap with red droplets and it looked slightly dingy with sweat.

"Y- You- _undressed me?_" She cried in hoarse terror, weakly bringing her arms up to cover herself. It didn't work, much. When she lifted up any of her limbs, it felt like someone was weighing them back down with lead weights. It made her feel groggy, making her head feel as if it were stuffed with thick cotton.

"Had t'do it- needed to get all the shrapnel out. Damn miracle you only got grazed, and _nothing_ hit anything vital. But you'd be lying in a ditch somewhere and not in a clinic bed with all the blood you lost."

Winona swallowed hard as her eyes became unfocused with tears on the man in front of her. She could have _died?_ In that split second when she was shot (when she _still_ didn't know how she got hit and was unaware of it), she could have died and bled out on the cracked pavement. In a split second, it all would have been over and she would have died as a woman in the midst of a crazy search for her missing father- and at the hands of some Raiders, no less!

"Shra- Shrapnel?..." She murmured, inquiring more information with little usage out of her vocabulary.

"Got a slice of a shell. Shotguns are close range, fucking miracle it is you didn't get your whole arm blown off. You're damn lucky that whoever took a potshot at you had shit aiming." He replied as he rolled his neck till it cracked, then turned to the door that led out of the small patient room and back into the main lobby of the clinic.

Winona tilted her head back to her pillow, still stroking Widget's upturned belly as she closed her eyes and tried to clear her thoughts so she could attempt to think straight. Subconsciously, her free hand slipped from gripping her discarded bra to the pocket of her jumpsuit and pulled out her mother's silken black hair ribbon. She intertwined it between her fingers, clamping it against her palm as she tightly rolled her hand into a trembling fist. Holding something that directly belonged to her mother made her feel so much better somehow… But, for right now? It wasn't really working. She was _shot_, for God's sake!

_That man…_ She mused, opening her eyes to find that the light bulb above her wasn't as bright as it originally was. It glowed lazily above her head, swaying side to side with the beaded drawstring clinking against it.

She only remembered his voice, his name, and something about a fedora… Since entering Megaton, she's never seen a man with a fedora and never spoke to _anyone _with the name "Mister Burke." It had a mysterious ring to it, she had to give at least that to her strange savior.

Winona glanced to the closed door that separated her from the small clinic lobby. Was he waiting for her, making sure that she was okay?

_The doctor said he paid for the trouble… It'd seem unreasonable that he wouldn't be waiting outside to see if I was okay- __**right?**_

Part of her hoped he was out there, and part of her hoped he wasn't.

So when the dark-skinned, foul mouthed doctor that fixed her came back in with the rest of her belongings (just her bat, really- as she had left her bag full of Gizmo's parts with Gob and his friend Nova for safe keeping) and had left the door open, she felt half relieved and half disappointed that the lobby was completely empty.


	15. CHP 15: An Angel With A Fedora PART 2

**A/N: Alright, so I KNOW I promised you guys two chapters instead of one, but I've been terribly busy lately and the shit has hit the fan in my life so I'm trying to get the dust to settle before I get back into writing because it's hard to concentrate ._.**

**Anywho! Here's a long, nice chapter for you guys! Enjoy!**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Widget buzzed around Treasure's head, flicking up strands of her beautiful silvery hair as she did so before finally landing on her shoulder. She stroked at some of the blood that still resided in her luscious strands, mentally frowning at the doctor for not cleaning Treasure up to par with her standards. She then wondered what would happen when Treasure walked through that door, to the place where it was noisy and Widget could sense that it smelled of unpleasant things and was full of unpleasant people, as Treasure looked for the man with the glasses and the strange clothes that had saved her- the one she called "Mr. Burke".<p>

Or maybe she was looking for the mean man with grey hair and pinpoint eyes that tried taking her away from Treasure?

Widget heard Treasure call the man "Moriarty" before, when they had traveled out of the giant metal door to the shambled town on its outskirts, looking for someone named "Silver." She was surprised to find that there was nothing silver about the woman they found at all, not like Treasure's beautiful hair- and it still caught her curiosity. Maybe she was called Silver because she was kind of pretty? Not as pretty as Treasure, and _never_ as pretty as Beloved- with her dark hair, full lips and endless blue eyes… Oh, how Widget missed her voice, and the way she'd wrap her up in her hands like a warm and soft cocoon, and nuzzle her nose with her velvety lips... But she was back in the place Treasure ran from, with an injured arm. Someone hurt Beloved, and Widget was enraged that she wasn't able to protect Beloved, when she thought about it. She wished she could go back one day and hurt the man who shot her.

She clung to Treasure's arm as she walked forward unexpectedly, pushing open the door to the bad man's unpleasant home and looked around. She poked at Treasure's cheek with her nose and chittered for information. She smiled and rubbed under her chin with two fingers, causing her to coo with delight and smile as much as she could. She could see the mess of emotions in her lavender eyes.

"We're just looking for someone, Widget. Don't worry."

If Treasure said not to worry, than she wouldn't worry… Why was it only Treasure and Beloved could understand what she wanted to say, but couldn't speak?

The thing with ruined skin, who Widget thought looked like a monster- like a boogeyman- was behind the counter like the last time they saw it and waved inconspicuously to Treasure. She gave a small wave back and a smile before Pinpoint came out from the door behind Boogeyman and hit him behind the head, yelling at him to get back to work.

Treasure was glaring at Pinpoint now. She didn't like him either, Widget knew. They both knew Pinpoint was a very bad man, and Widget would have pulled on his hair or head-butt him in the eye if Treasure didn't need something from him… If Pinpoint had Gentle Eyes, the one Treasure called "daddy" since the day she was created and maybe even longer- from before she was even brought to_ life_- then Widget would be sure she'd do more than pull on his hair or head-butt him in one of those pinpoint eyes of his.

Widget looked on to Boogeyman, rubbing the back of his head where he was hit and stared at the dirty rag in his hand with a stifled look while Pinpoint returned to hiding behind the door that resided on the other side of the counter. Maybe Boogeyman was a misunderstood monster? Maybe he was very kind… If he wasn't, Treasure wouldn't have waved at him, right?

Treasure went over to the counter and began to ask him if he was okay, and if there was anything she could do. He smiled and shook his head, telling her not to worry- but she sensed that even thought he said not to worry, Treasure would worry anyways- unlike when Treasure asked her not to worry. Widget stared at Boogeyman thoughtfully, tilting her head to the side and gave a questioning chitter.

Maybe Pinpoint was the monster here- _not_ Boogeyman, because not everything that looks like a monster _is _a monster, and maybe the things we fear most are the things we cannot identify.

-:-

Winona looked on to Widget, perched on her shoulder, as she cocked her bubble head to the side and chittered quietly. She stroked Widget under her chin with two fingers before plopping down at a barstool in front of Gob and the cash register.

"I'm surprised Moriarty didn't come over here and ask me if I found Silver…" She spoke, looking at the door where Moriarty had disappeared behind after smacking poor Gob upside the head.

"Well," Gob shot her an inquisitive look. "_Did _you find her?"

She nodded, lightly pressing a hand to her side where she was grazed by a shotgun shell. She winced a little at the pain that seemed to strangle her entire body, catching a whimper in her throat.

"I did." She nodded, trying to fight back the pain so it wouldn't register in her face or eyes. "When was I last in here?"

"About three days ago… I've kept your bag in my room upstairs, for whenever you want your stuff back." He answered, looking down to her hand planted on her side, right below her ribcage. If he knew she was injured, he said nothing of it. He just ducked his face away and grabbed for some dirty dishes that littered the counter at her right, by the cash register.

"So what happened?" He finally asked, looking up at her with the short stack of dirty cups and chipped plates in his arms as he went over to the sink on the far side behind the bar- right by Moriarty's closed door.

Winona related to the ghoul about heading out to Springvale, where she encountered two people- where he took a moment during her storytelling to confirm her suspicions that they were indeed raiders- and Widget had killed them. At the mention of her name, the little ladybug bot clicked overconfidently, causing Gob to chuckle a little and shake his head in disbelief as he wiped down dirty glasses- a show for Moriarty, in case he came out again. She continued on to talk about her encounter with Silver in the old house, having a gun to her head and trying to talk the druggie down. After some conversation, Winona left without any caps but her heart was aflutter with the result of knowing that she may have done someone a world of good- and convinced Silver that it wasn't too late to get clean and do something better with her life.

"As I was coming back, I think I was shot." She spoke, lightly running her fingertips over her side where it burned. "I passed out by Megaton's exit and woke up in Dr. Church's clinic, where he took care of me."

"_Wow,_" Gob spoke with wide, milky eyes. "That's amazing, kid! But how'd you get to the clinic?"

"Well…" She removed her hand from her side and ran her long fingers through her shoulder-blade length hair. "I remember a nice suit… And glasses. I remember a fedora, and I remember being picked up from the ground."

The ghoul's eyes seemed to widen as he stared past her at the wall behind her, almost as if he were putting two and two together and knowing the answer was four, but no matter how many calculations he made the answer he kept getting was _five_. It was baffling to try and read his expression without features to distinguish his emotions, and the chalky milkness of his eyes didn't make it any easier to decipher what he was thinking.

"Don't tell me-..." He murmured.

"His name was-" Winona barely registered the creaking of the floor behind her as someone stepped up and placed their hands on her shoulders. Even though Gob probably saw it coming, he still winced- just like she did. She turned her eyes to one of the hands on her shoulders- masculine, but somehow soft. Free of any imperfections- wrinkles, sun spots, even dirt, which struck her as odd. Blunt fingernails were cut short and immaculately clean. Whoever it was took very good care of themselves- to the point where it almost seemed _obsessive._

"Mr. Burke, my dear." A luscious voice seemed to whisper in her ear, and she snapped around on her bar stool to meet a ravenous and crooked smile, with her eyes boring into dark glass lenses covering over his eyes. Widget squealed out and buried herself into the front of her jumpsuit, yanking up the zipper when she was nice and hidden out of sight. "My name is Mr. Burke."

-:-

Winona looked on to Mr. Burke as he slipped his house key into the lock of his front door, twisting it until a click resounded in her ears and he pushed it open. He stepped to the side and looked back at her, gesturing to the small room that stared back at her with a swift gesture while his other hand was still clasped around the doorknob.

"Please, do come in and make yourself comfortable." She reluctantly stepped forward a few paces with her hands cupped together in front of her body. Widget lay in them, pushing two of her fingers apart to peek through them and "ooo" with intrigue and wide eyes at the spacious living room. A rug was sprawled on the floor with two red cushion chairs sitting on top of it and a nice coffee table sat between them. To her right was a doorway, minus the door and replaced with a nice cloth curtain, that led to a little nook that she assumed was the kitchen. There was a flight of stairs to her left where it elbowed at the wall after a few stairs and made a sharp left to continue to the second floor. All in all, it looked homey on the outside but seemed to be a whole _lot _bigger on the inside. It made her really nervous to know that he was the closest thing living to the bomb, with the Brass Lantern running for second place- and he didn't seem to be bothered by it at all when the giant thing came into view.

Mr. Burke closed the door behind him, and Winona shrugged off her pack that contained Gizmo's parts. Before she could place it on the ground to the side of the cushioned chair she was planning on vacating, he stepped over and motioned to it.

"Would you like me to take this off your hands?"

She shot him an inquisitive look with her brows furrowed together. With Widget still perched on one of her cupped hands, her fingers tightened around the strap on her bag protectively. He gave her a small, comforting smile- but she could still sense the venom lurking underneath. She was half expecting him to grow fangs and lunge at her, digging those scarily sharp canines into the hallow of her throat and stain her neck crimson like the small splotches in her silvery hair.

"Madame, I give my word that no harm will come to your belongings. I have no interest in what lies in your pack- when my interest lies in _you._"

Winona could feel her body go rigid upon the words that left his thin, smiling lips. Oh _God_ why did she agree to leave the bar and follow him to his home? It's because daddy never told her to avoid strangers when everyone she was ever surrounded by was well-known- not just by her but by the rest of the Vault dwellers. Everyone knew everybody else. It was a simple fact because there was technically nowhere to hide, and the population of dwellers wasn't a swelled one.

"Is- Is that why you took me to Dr. Church?" She asked, berating herself mentally when she stuttered and her voice shook as she spoke. "Because you think I'm- _cute _or something? Because you want something from me? If you want- want _that,_" She choked on her words, trying not to bring images to her mind of him on top of her with both of them sweaty and breathing heavily and _damnit there was the image!_ "Nova up at the saloon can help you, instead!"

"My dear girl, I believe you have the wrong idea…" He chuckled in a low tone that sounded as if it were humming from deep within his chest and shook his head in disappointment. Before she could open her mouth to speak, his hand dove into her backpack.

"_Hey!_" She tugged on the strap to get it away from him. "That's my-!"

He brought out Gizmo's skull- which in itself seemed like a base or frame _for _a skull with thick metal rods bent and welded into a strangely molded sphere before stretching forward into the upper jaw of a muzzle. She hadn't attached the lower jaw, yet. Wires wound about the rods from a battery rattling within the cranium, the other end of the colorful mess of wires attaching to that of an eye in one of the skull's sockets- more wires were unattached to the second eye that was yet to be placed. It was a small red light bulb that she had unscrewed (when no one was watching, _especially _her father or Butch and his friends, as the former would disapprove and the latter would squeal on her) from one of the Vault's security alarms. At the time, she figured the Vault wouldn't need it and took it- but she still didn't have a second light bulb for Gizmo so he could have two eyes.

"I know what this is… An invention, is it not?" He slipped his fingers into the base of the skull, wrapping them around the metal rods and turned it to her- as if it were watching her, perched on his knuckles and the topside of his hand. He turned his face to look at her as well. "But what sparked you to invent what seems to look like a skull of a canine?"

"That- That's none of _your _concern!" She squealed, ripping Gizmo's skull from his hand as Widget fluttered out of her palms with a surprised shriek, spiraling up into the air with her limbs flung about and her wings stretching out to catch her. When she finally settled herself, bubble head rocking back and forth comically as if she were dizzy, she shook it clear and glared at Mr. Burke.

"Oh, but it _is_, my dear… It most _certainly_ is, for the proposition I am about to offer you." He gestured to the chair that she was going to sit at before he grabbed for her stuff. "Again I ask that you make yourself comfortable, for I have great things in mind for you _and_ your invention. Would you care to indulge in anything? A bit of wine, maybe some purified water?"

"Wait, what about Gizmo?" She asked, slowly lowering herself into her seat- hook, line, and _sinker._ The man had caught her interest- she didn't know why he seemed to be fascinated by her, and more importantly, what did her companion in the making have anything to do with it?

"So your creation has a name?"

Winona nodded, looking to the metallic skull in her possession as Widget fluttered over and sat on her head, rubbing her cheek against Winona's scalp and making noises akin to a cat's gentle purr.

"His name is Gizmo…"

"And the creature on your head?"

"Widget." She replied quietly, stroking a light fingertip over the glass bulb of Gizmo's eye.

Mr. Burke took a moment to ponder her before turning to the curtain and brushed it away to enter the kitchen. He came back shortly with two glasses and a bottle of something. It looked like wine.

"So, tell me what the purpose of your… Devices, are." He spoke as he sat down on the cushion chair opposite of her, placing the two glasses on the coffee table and uncorked the bottle of wine. "Most things are created for a reason- as a convenience, are they not? Like stoves and washing machines- do you know what they are?" He began to pour her a glass when she stopped him.

"I don't drink." She spoke, and he shot her a dumbfounded look before it turned stony and impassive as before, despite the small smile he wore. "And yes, I know what those things are. You'd be surprised by the library we have back in the Vault."

_Which isn't much,_ she added on mentally. _Which __**also **__means that I've probably read what little books we have four to five times each growing up… Yeah, that sounds about right._

"As you wish." He removed the glass from her side of the table and filled up his own about half way, placing the wine bottle back on the table. "Now, I am quite curious about that creature on your head- and the plans you have in mind for the one that lay in your pack."

Winona decided there was no harm in telling him. Widget was a simple contraption, meant to help her clean but instead had a tendency to destroy things- and Gizmo was a project she brought to life from when she was a little girl. There was no real reason behind wanting to build Gizmo- she just wanted to have a companion.

"Hmn… You are quite a peculiar young woman, I must say." Mr. Burke spoke after she was done talking, which only ran about ten minutes or so because she had talked about one of Widget's "accidents" not too long after she was created that involved a toaster from the cafeteria and her long division homework. "I am curious to know- is your interest in inventing something that all residents in a Vault have?"

She cocked her head to the side. "No, sir. It's just a- well, it's a _me _thing. I've done it since- well, as far back as I can remember, in all honesty… My father says it's a passion I've always had."

"Are these the only things you have created?"

"Widget is the only thing I've invented thus far. Gizmo is still a work in progress, but I hope to bring him to reality soon enough…" Winona murmured quietly with a broad smile as she looked to Gizmo's skull in her lap, attaching a loose wire to the socket behind his light bulb eye so it turned on brightly. Burke stared at it with such intense interest that it was betraying his impassive look in spades.

Widget fluttered between the two before sitting on the table and curiously scurrying over to his wine glass, that he'd only taken a few sips from since pouring it. She bobbed her head over the edge of the glass by climbing up onto it and sniffed at the dark liquid before sticking her nose in it and took a lick. She pulled back violently, the sound of her sneeze the equivalent of two slabs of metal clashing together. The force of it propelled her onto her back where she struggled, her limbs flailing about in every which direction. She looked like a turtle trying and failing to get itself upright after landing back on its shell.

"Widget!" She cried, sighing as she picked up the little ladybug bot and placed her on top of Gizmo's skull. She sat right above his eye, leaning over to peek at the glowing light bulb with a long sigh of dazed interest. "I'm sorry, she doesn't know any better." She looked up at Mr. Burke with an apologetic smile.

"No need to apologize, my dear. Many people out in the Capital Wasteland don't seem to know much better. Your little invention looks to be the curious type."

Winona stared at him with a small smile. She had to admit, she liked the way he said "my dear" in that effortless and proper tone his voice carried as if he were from somewhere else… Somewhere _better. _But then, she realized he probably referred to her as so because he didn't _know_ her name!

"Oh- I just realized… You don't even know my name!"

Mr. Burke smiled that wolfish smile of his, and Winona shrunk back in herself- thinking that her previous thoughts of him being so charming were probably misguided and that he was a very brash man with dirty little secrets lying idle under the surface. She was afraid to find out what they were if she decided to get to digging.

"Granted, you weren't in a necessary state for introductions." He replied.

"You still introduced yourself to me…" _As I probably bled out onto your nice suit,_ she added on mentally.

"And I am quite surprised that you remember that, but I believed that you'd like to know who brought you to the clinic for when you woke up with a curious itch that needed scratching. Would you like for us to start over from the beginning?"

"It's not necessary… I could just tell you my name."

He blinked at her behind his dark lenses, and continued tightly; "I am about to offer you a business deal, and I believe that starting off on the right footing can go a long ways, don't you agree?" He stuck out his hand in a graceful manner, if it were possible to do such a simple thing as if it were the most magnificent gesture a human could make.

"I've never made a business deal before, so I wouldn't quite know." Winona admitted as her coffee hand met with his, wrapping around his palm firmly and gave it a shake. "Hello- my name is Winona Parker."

"Mr. Burke," He nodded to her with that wolfish smile coming back to his thin lips. "And Ms. Parker, would you like to see Gizmo come to life sooner than you expected?"

Winona stared at him with wide eyes, her hand still gripping his in their firm handshake.

"Wha- What-?..."

"I mean exactly as what I said. Would you like to see Gizmo come to life sooner than you expect?" He released his hand from hers and leaned back into his chair, crossing his legs and grabbed for his wine glass, perching it on top of his knee after taking a sip.

"I- I would _love _that, Mr. Burke!" She grinned from ear to ear. "Widget took me several years to invent- but I guess it's understandable since I was quite young…" A curious notion flashed into her head. "But how do you expect to help me?"

"Are you familiar with currency in the Capital Wasteland?" She nodded briefly. "Excellent. If you agree to the offer I have for you, you will not _only _have enough money to buy all the materials you need, but you will also be given a nice and quiet environment to work at the most luxurious place in the entire Wasteland. You ran into some troublesome raiders not too long ago, correct?"

Winona frowned and gripped her side as light as she could possibly manage without making it hurt. Widget made a sad noise and she looked down at her, petting her head and stroking her back to calm her. She finally gave Mr. Burke a nod in confirmation.

"The place I speak of has no raiders. It has no danger- no slavers, Super Mutants, creatures threatening to tear you to bloody pieces…" Her lavender eyes widened in horror, and a shiver of fear ran down her spine. "There is no hardship unless you'd like to work and earn your way to the top of the ladder, as I did- there is no disease, no reason to fear because you will be safe behind impenetrable walls and kept safe by a large security team supplied with the best armor and weapons money can buy."

"Why take an interest in me?" She shot back the moment he was done. "No offense to you or your judgement, but I wouldn't even hire _myself_ for any sort of business deal… I'm not all that good with money and the like."

"Your part does not involve money of any sort. Money only comes in after you've done your part of the deal."

"Again, why me?"

"Because you have no ties to anything out here in this Godforsaken hellhole- a putrescent _cesspool…_ This fact _alone_ makes you a very valuable, and very _powerful,_ individual."

"This- This place you mentioned, it sounds too good to be true…" She pressed her hand to her forehead, taking a deep breath and considered her options. Not only was she given a chance to create Gizmo, but she'd be living in a safe and secure area to work and live in- it'd be a place for her to return to while searching for her father, and even _after_ finding him. He'd like that, wouldn't he? Oh- she was getting giddy with all the other inventions she had in mind once she moved in!

But then, a little fragment of realization snagged her giddy feeling and yanked her back down. What was _her _side of the deal in order to get all of this?

"Before I get _too_ ahead of myself- what part do I play in order to have all this?" Winona raised an eyebrow. Widget clicked and whirred colorfully as she darted her head back and forth between her and Mr. Burke- waiting for him to answer.

"Ah- I thought you would _never_ ask…" Mr. Burke unbuttoned his suit and dove his hand in, retrieving something bulky as he put it on the table and shifted it closer to her end before sitting back in his chair- legs folded again with his fingers intertwined and clasped over his kneecap.

Her eyes widened curiously upon it as she gingerly picked it up, observing it briefly before putting it down in her lap and tugged her mother's black silk ribbon out of her jumpsuit pocket and swiftly tied her hair back. Mr. Burke watched with interest at her concentration ritual as she studied the mechanism.

"Looks like a device meant to be attached to something. A dial, but nothing else to trigger it. So it's either a timer or it is activated by a remote control device… Whatever it's meant to be attached to, it's something specific. It can't be used for anything else. I don't know what it does, but if you give me some time to tinker with it-"

His hand lashed out so fast and wrapped around her tiny wrist it made her cry out in surprise. She snapped her eyes up to his hardened face- serious and businesslike, effectively erasing the interested expression he had before.

"That won't be necessary, as I already know what it is meant for and what it is meant to activate."

Winona blinked at him uneasily. She suddenly felt so- so _nervous._ She felt it like a little wriggling worm in the apple of her being- burrowing deep into her stomach to toss and turn like a restless man in the midst of the night.

She let out a gasp and the gadget fell out of her hands and clattered on the floor. The nervous worm flailed about wildly in her gut as if it were being attacked, making her feel so very nauseous at the next words he spoke;

"This device is called a fusion pulse charge. Attaching and activating the mechanism will rig the bomb in Megaton to explode… Bathing everything in a massive explosion and ungodly amounts of radiation."

And _this_ is why daddy should have told her to stay away from strangers.


	16. CHP 16: The Adventures of Ravenbraid

Butch sat on the edge of his bed with his elbows propped on his knees, his beloved switchblade- which he called "Toothpick"- was getting a good sharpening in his steady hands. He took a moment to put his work down on the bed by his thigh and unzipped the front of his jumpsuit- pulling his arms out of his sleeves and letting them fall around his hips before grabbing Toothpick to continue sharpening it.

It had been a few days since Winona left, but the aftermath of her escaping was still fresh, and when things were getting worse or shit was blowing up it was only tossing salt into the wound. From the corner of his eyes, he saw little nibbles running up his bicep, disappearing into the white sleeve of his undershirt. He was overrun by a few radroaches just yesterday, because his mother got drunk and decided to take a walk and forgot to close their apartment door- allowing him to wake up with two of the overgrown bugs sitting on him, chittering away while they feasted. It was a good thing he woke up before more came, or before they could do anymore damage. It was only a flesh wound- nothing a little Stimpak couldn't fix, but the scarring would be there for another day or so at best.

He found his mother not too long afterward. She was safe and sound in the dark clinic, sprawled out on a gurney with a vodka bottle on the floor. She was being watched over by Old Lady Palmer. He remembered the interesting events that happened after finally finding his mother, and he laid back on his bed with his hands folded behind his head, slowly closing his eyes...

"_Ah, Butch. I was wondering when you'd come looking for your mother." She spoke with a slight smile, getting up from the chair she was seated in at his mother's side._

_He said nothing as he went to his mom with his hands shoved deeply into his leather jacket pockets. Winona may have had **his**, but that didn't mean that he didn't have others. He had about three or four more- mostly because his hair gel would sometimes get onto the leather and bleach it some funny color, making a hideous spot on the shiny black. And if anyone decided to wise up and wanted to join the Tunnel Snakes, but as of late he was sure as shit that no one was looking to be recruited._

"_Ma- wake up." He kicked the leg of the gurney, making it shift slightly. All she did was violently snort before rolling onto her side- the violent shift of the gurney skid across the floor from her sudden movement, knocking the vodka bottle in the process. Its clear liquid pooled around the shards of glass, seeping against his boots. He stepped to the side to get out of it._

"_She's been here for a few hours now- I found her getting chased by some radroaches in the hallways, trying to fight them off with that bottle of hers." She nodded to the remains of it on the floor._

_Butch looked to her over his shoulder as she got up from her chair and took a stiff step towards him. He always knew Old Lady Palmer was old- hell, that's where she got her __**nickname**__ from- and he didn't know if it was the light or the circumstances, but she looked like death. Her cheeks seemed leathery with wrinkles and sallow- sunken in under her jutting cheekbones. The hallows of her eyes were sunken in, too, making it look as if they were nothing but little twinkles in the dark void. Her short gray hair came in wispy strands from the crown of her head, clinging around the curves of her temples._

_He looked away with a chill wringing his spine into knots, and he kicked the leg of the gurney again. The Tunnel Snake looked over his mom again. She didn't look injured._

"_Ma?" He removed a hand from his jacket pocket, slick with sweat, and he clasped his fingers around her shoulder, beginning to shake her awake. "C'mon. Let's get back to the apartment."_

_She swatted at him, narrowly missing his nose and rolled over once more. She had run out of gurney to roll over on and instead landed on the floor. Her head made a hard noise as it connected with the metal, but she still remained asleep. The clear vodka on the floor began to seep into the side of her jumpsuit, where she was curled up into a ball._

_Butch sighed and ran his free hand down his face when the clinic door slid up, letting in the light from the Vault hallways outside, illuminating a harsh square that stretched across the floor towards his boots. The outlines of two figures appeared, panting heavily. One seemed to have her arm slung around the shoulders of another and she was limp, her hair a stringy mess around her face. The other girl who was holding her up seemed to be struggling, and he spun around to see who it was when he let out a low gasp._

"_Oh- Oh dear!" Old Lady Palmer exclaimed in horror, clasping a trembling hand to her heart with the other slapped across her thin weathered lips._

"_Pl- Please! Someone needs to help Amata!" Susie exclaimed, stumbling into the room, dragging Amata behind her._

_But what made Butch gasp was that Amata didn't-… She didn't __**look **__like Amata. Both of her blue eyes were adorned with rings of dark purple shiners, and her left one looked as if it were already swollen shut. Her dark hair was barely kept pulled back in the clip she always wore, and instead it was a stringy mess in her face with clumps of something tacky and red sticking a few strands together. Her full bottom lip was busted, blood ran from her nose to the hallow of her neck, pooling against the collar of her off-white undershirt that was shown through her ragged jumpsuit. More flecks of blood was stained down her chest and stomach, and through ripped holes of the cloth of her jumpsuit, Butch could see more dark bruises on her flesh. Something sharp stuck out like a bundle of tacks under the right sleeve of her jumpsuit, pushing up against the fabric as if trying to escape._

"_Bring her here, dearie." Old Lady Palmer immediately went over, softly wrapping an arm around Amata's waist to try and even out her weight on little Susie's shoulders and began to drag her towards another gurney, opposite of Butch's mother on the floor._

"_Shit, what the hell happened to her face?" Butch asked as he observed from his spot by his mother, hands shoved back into his jacket pockets. He craned his neck over the bustle of shoulders crowded around the severely injured girl. "Looks like she went the wrong way down a flight of stairs."_

"_I found her in the hallway like this!" Susie exclaimed angrily through hot tears, spinning on her heel to glare at him. "She said your asshole friend- **my brother**- did this!"_

"_I dunno what you're talkin' about." He answered with a slight back tilt of his head, looking down at her through hooded eyelids. He didn't have any friends. Paul was dead and Wally was-_

_His eyes shot wide open. She didn't mean-?... __**Could**__ he have done this to her?_

"_So you __**didn't **__tell Wally to do this to her?" She asked in strained voice, the tears finally coming over to her plump cheeks._

"_The fuck I did!" He growled, feeling his lips pull tight over his teeth in a snarl._

"_Then why would he do this to her? We __**all **__know you like screwing with Amata and Winona!"_

"_Well, guess what, Mack? The Vault has gone to fucking Shit **C**__**ity!**__ Raggin' on Winona and her little girlfriend isn't exactly on my To-Do List. Staying __**alive**__ is! If you were smart, you'd know your prick of a brother ditched the Tunnel Snakes. He's with her bitch __**father**_ _now!" He pointed sharply at Amata, sprawled out on the steel gurney._

"_Wa- Wally is?" Susie asked with wide eyes of horror, taking a step back from him with more tears streaming down her significantly paled cheeks. "__**Why?**__"_

"_He said Winona busted Stevie up real bad- messed up his face, or something. Wally said he's still breathing, but he's **real **fucked up. He was gonna join up with the security team to honor your brother or something."_

"_Wh- __**What?**__" She clasped a trembling hand against her chest, clawing at the thick cobalt material. "Ste- Stevie?... He's __**hurt?**__"_

"_You didn't know?" He asked quietly with a suspicious glance._

"_No, I didn't!" She exclaimed with more tears- __**angry tears- **__coming to her eyes. "You said __**Winona**__ did this to Stevie?"_

"_Wi- Winona?…" A weak voice groaned barely above a hoarse whisper. The two arguing teenagers craned their necks over to see Amata's swollen eye struggling to open itself, with the other already open a crack. She was watching them._

"_Hush now, child… Rest now- let Old Lady Palmer see what's the matter with you." The elderly woman gave her a smile and gently pet her forehead, ushering her back down onto the gurney. "You'll be safe here. For now, I'm going to inject you with Med-X. Do you know what it does? Blink twice if you do, once if you don't, sweetheart. I don't want you tiring yourself out by talking."_

_She stared up at her with a blank look in her watery eyes, beading through the swollen lids of her left eye and slid down her left temple. Her other eye, the one that seemed fine despite the dark purple ring around it, gave a slow blink once- and a second one never came after a few seconds of waiting._

"_Med-X acts as morphine. It'll numb the pain of what I'm about to do-"_

_Amata's dark eye widened slightly in fear, and she tried to sit up from the gurney again in a panic. Old Lady Palmer rested her back down by softly petting her gleaming with sweat forehead again._

"_I'm sorry if I'm scaring you, but from the extent of your injuries you have several broken bones. Your right humerus- that's your upper arm bone- is broken. I need to reset the bone before I inject you with a Stimpak, or it won't heal properly and the damage could be long term. Some of your ribs may be fractured as well. I won't know until I get a better look at you… May I take off your jumpsuit?"_

_Amata gawked at her before giving her a slow and reluctant double blink. Old Lady Palmer turned to a nearby cart of medical instruments, which she also occupied with supplies she got from the office at the back, and plucked up a pair of shiny metal scissors._

"_How- How do you __**know **__all this stuff?" Susie asked curiously with a waver in her voice and stifled a sniffle by rubbing her nose with the underbelly of her wrist. She wrapped her other arm around herself in a loose hug of comfort. "Did you learn it from Dr. Parker, or something?"_

"_Not at all, dearie. I learned it from my daughter, Anne. You know Anne, don't you?"_

_She nodded and stifled another sniffle, using the wrist that she wiped her nose with to wipe the tears from her eyes._

"_I remember that she used to come to the classroom and make up stories for us, when we were kids…" She looked to Butch over her shoulder, as if silently asking if he remembered, or even __**knew**__ what she was talking about._

_Butch remembered her. She had long black hair that was always in a braid, ebony skin, and wide brown eyes. She had a jagged scar too, running down the side of her face from her cheek bone to her jaw. It looked out of place considering how pretty she was, and he remembered asking her where she got it from once. She said she had a run in with a radroach when she was little- it had jumped on her face or something and started nibbling on her._

_**That ain't no radroach bite, though… I've seen 'em. On my arm, on other people- on Paul's body…**__ A thick shiver rung up his spine. He pulled his hand from his jacket pocket and pulled back the sleeve cuff slightly, showing a thin sliver of a scar on the butt of his palm. He had gotten it when he got his first switchblade, before it mysteriously missing when he was ten. He tried showing off for the guys when Dolly scared the living daylights out of him by showing up out of __**nowhere **__and he caught the knife by the blade instead of the handle- it had sliced his palm right open._

_He smirked a little at the memory. __**Dolly looked like she was gonna have a spazz attack, and Paul looked like he was having trouble deciding whether he should barf his guts up or pass out cold.**_

_Whatever was on Anne Palmer's cheek was __**not **__a radroach bite. It was a cut from a knife, he was sure of it. He just didn't know until now. But now he was curious to know why she lied, and where it came from, anyways. Maybe she was ashamed of how she had gotten it, or embarrassed that she had it in the first place, or something?_

"_Did you like the stories she told you?" Susie nodded quickly, as if she couldn't get the answer out fast enough. "How about you, Amata?" She asked as she unzipped Amata's suit and began cutting away at the sleeves, letting it fall away to reveal her grey undershirt. Butch plopped down on the floor, back pressed to a nearby pillar, keeping his eyes on his mother so he wouldn't have to stare at Amata being undressed._

_Sure, he harassed her a few times when they were growing up- made jokes about seeing a "__**real **__Tunnel Snake," but he never meant it. Hell, Amata was kinda pretty but her big mouth and naggy tendencies threw a lot of guys off. Plus, __**no one**__ want's to marry the Overseer's daughter. The guy is just nine fucking levels of bat-shit __**insane!**_

_Amata gave another double blink, and Susie gave a smidge of a smile._

"_My- My favorite one was Ravenbraid… The Warrior Princess that wasn't afraid of everything, she __**loved **__adventure- and she was __**invincible**__."_

_Butch gave an immature snort and she shot him a sharp look over her shoulder, but her attention was stolen away from his little outburst when Old Lady Palmer started talking again._

"_I'm sorry, dear. My little Anne has __**so **__many stories to tell, I often forget the names she gives her characters! Which story are you talking about?"_

"_Ravenbraid was out in the night with her band of followers, returning to her castle made of giant metal walls and buildings- she called it Atom's Cradle- when they were attacked by a band of monsters in ragged, filthy clothing. They all had crazy and colorful fur and rotting teeth and howled like animals! Her band was outnumbered, but they fought back bravely, and won!"_

_The elderly woman chuckled with fascination, lightly pressing fingers along Amata's ribcage for damage. She writhed and groaned in pain when her nimble fingertips pressed into her big blossoms of bruises dotted around her torso front._

"_Child, if Anne could hear you now she'd be grateful to know that someone loves her stories as much as you do. You are __**quite **__the storyteller, yourself!"_

"_Oh, but that's not even the __**best**__ part! Her right hand man, Four Eyes, suffered from a bad bite from one of the monsters on his leg and they had to cut it off because the poison from the monster's teeth was spreading. Her personal confidante, Bold Heart the Fearless, had a lot of cuts and bruises, but she was fine. And __**Ravenbraid? **__She didn't have a __**single**__ scratch! She carried Four Eyes all the way back to Atom's Cradle by herself and healed him using her magic!"_

"_You sound __**really **__into this, Mack." Butch snorted and folded his arms across his broad chest, raising a quizzical eyebrow. She looked like a toddler in a candy store with how hyped up she was getting into the story. "You don't actually __**believe **__in this stuff, do you?"_

"_O- Of course, not!" She cried, spinning around on her heel and glared at him. He could see that her cheeks were red-hot with an embarrassed blush. "Everyone __**knows**__ monsters and magic and castles don't exist! They only do in fairy tales… I just really like the stories Anne used to tell us, is all!"_

"_What if I told you those stories really happened, Susie?" Old Lady Palmer piped up as she replaced the gleaming scissors on the tray of other medical instruments and plucked up a syringe of Med-X. She held it between her fingers, and began to lightly flick below the base of the needle._

"_I'm callin' bull__**shit**__ on this one, you old fossil." Butch rolled his eyes and stretched his legs across the floor, folding one over the other at the ankle._

"_**Butch!**__" Susie cried, stepping over and kicking the bottom of his boot roughly. "Don't you __**ever **__have anything nice to say to __**anyone?**__"_

"'_Ya ever hear me say __**please**_ _or __**thank you,**__ Mack?"_

_She continued to glare at him angrily._

"_Of course you haven't, 'cause I never have and I __**never**_ _will. Remember that." He glanced down to his mother, who began to stir a little in her drunken sleep on the floor. "'Cause I don't take shit from __**nobody.**__"_

"_What does that have __**anything**_ _to do with being __**nice**__ for once?" She barked._

"_Don't believe an old woman's story, Mr. DeLoria, but I know what is true and I know what is right. I can even tell you something else that happened in the story that my daughter didn't mention." Old Lady Palmer interrupted._

"_What is that?" Susie asked curiously, straightening up and looking back at her as she carefully slid the needle into the inner nook of Amata's right elbow, a little below where something white and jagged protruded from her broken skin- long, stringy clumps of crimson hung from it. Butch almost heaved right onto the floor once he realized what it was- her bone, sticking out of her fucking __**skin**__ like it was supposed to **be there**._

"_Ravenbraid wasn't as invincible as she wished she was… That day, when she went up against those howling monsters with the crazy fur, she __**was**_ _hurt. The leader of the monsters attacked her when she wasn't paying attention, and cut deep into her cheek."_

_**That ain't no radroach bite, though… I've seen 'em. **__His mind echoed and he snapped his eyes up to the old woman, arms falling into his lap unceremoniously._

"_Four Eyes' true name was Frank Lewis- that is Floyd Lewis' father, may they both rest in peace. He was given that name in Ravenbraid's stories because he had a special pair of glasses that ran down in his family as terrible eyesight was a genetic. Bold Heart's true name is Agnes Taylor, that's Mr. Taylor's wife- the one that's on the security team. That was the name Anne gave her in all her stories because she suffered from a severe heart condition, where she is unable to cope with large amounts of stress very well. Despite that she was a very brave and fiery soul. Last I heard, she is bedridden due to all the chaos happening in the Vault…"_

_She gave Amata a quick look over before preparing another Med-X syringe by lightly flicking below of the base of the needle as she did before, leaning over to inject it between two of Amata's bruised ribs as she continued speaking._

"_Ravenbraid's castle of enormous metal structures, surrounded by an impenetrable steel barrier is not known as Atom's Cradle, and it's not a castle. It's a little town known as Megaton. She gave the "castle" the name Atom's Cradle because the town had a strange entity within that many of the settlers worshipped. A deity known as Atom that sat in a crater of filthy water."_

_Old Lady Palmer cut out a clean piece of Amata's Vault jumpsuit and pulled out a small bin on the lower shelf of the medical cart, retrieving a bottle of water from it. She unscrewed the lid and doused the scrap of cloth, and began to lightly clean off Amata's blood-stained body to get a better sense of if she had any other serious injuries._

"_The monsters Ravenbraid and her band fought are people- like you and me__. They are called "Raider"s where they are from, and they are __**very **__evil people. They rape, slave, torture, and kill all for good fun. They are quite easy to spot due to their bright and eccentric hairstyles, and are armed to the ugly teeth with foul weapons. Frank Lewis was, indeed, bitten by one of these Raiders on the leg- but they had to amputate it because it became vilely infected, not poisoned, and there was no way of saving it, and he was not healed from Ravenbraid's magic- he went insane after his leg was amputated and he killed himself."_

_She looked to Amata below her once she was done cleaning her off and set the dirtied scrap on top of the medical cart. She leaned down and whispered something close to her ear, looking up for a response out of the Overseer's daughter. She closed her eyes, where more tears beaded through, and gave a slight nod of her head._

"_Oh, and we __**certainly**__ can't forget about the hero of our story, am I right? Ravenbraid's true identity is Anne Palmer, my daughter." She spoke as she straightened up over Amata._

"_No __**fucking**__ way…" Butch murmured with wide eyes. __**No- it's a fucking kids story!**__ He tried arguing with himself. __**But, the scar on her cheek… No, the old fossil's a storyteller like her fucking kid.**_

"_Wait, if all this __**actually**_ _happened, __**where**__ did it happen? There's no ginormous town down here, and there aren't any bad people with weapons and crazy hairstyles! If there were, I'm __**sure**__ we would have __**noticed!**__" Susie cried, throwing her arms up above her head in an exasperated gesture. Her voice was skeptical, but he could tell that it looked like she was sort of enjoying hearing the truth behind her favorite childhood story- __**if **__it was the truth, that is, and it sounded like a really big **if.**_

"_Of course it didn't happen down here, child… But I thought the answer would have been made clear to you by now," The elderly woman answered as she gently gripped Amata's arm- a bit a ways above and below where the broken bone was jutting out of her skin._

"_What the hell are you talking about?" Butch piped up. Even __**he **__was starting to get a little curious by all of this._

"_It didn't happen here- because it happened __**there…**__ Where we aren't allowed to go, but so many people have escaped to. Like Dr. Parker and his steadfast little inventor of a daughter- bright one, she is…"_

"_Wait, so you're saying-?..." Susie drifted off with wide eyes of shock, as if she couldn't at all process everything the old woman was saying to them._

"_**There **__isn't heavily irradiated, like you've been told all your lives…" She spoke steadily as her arms made a swift jarring movement once, then twice, and both were followed by a sickening noise of disturbed flesh._

_Amata's back suddenly arched up and she violently lifted herself up from the gurney, eyes snapped wide open and mouth twisted into a blood-curdling shriek of agony with her head thrown back. Butch winced and shrunk back into himself, feeling his stomach rolling around in his midsection as Susie clamped her hands over her ears, beginning to cry and whimper again._

"_It's safe to live **up there** children… I would know. My __**daughter **__would know, because she's seen it… She's seen __**true life **__up there…" Old Lady Palmer turned and looked at them over her bony shoulder. Her eyes were little twinkles in the hollows of her eye sockets, making him shudder all __**over **__again. If he thought she looked like death before, she was certainly playing the part __**now**__ with how Amata was going on like that behind her on the gurney- writhing, convulsing, and sobbing as blood dripped down her limp arm and connected with the floor with a tacky __**plop**_ _of crimson._

Butch jolted up from his bed, panting heavily at the dream with beads of sweat caressing his skin and he closed his eyes- taking a deep swallow as he ran a trembling hand down his face. Amata's screams of horrid pain as her bone was pushed back into her flesh, where it was _supposed _to go, would haunt him for the _rest_ of his _fucking_ life…

If it weren't for Old Lady Palmer's last words replaying and _replaying_ over her harping, that is…

"_It's safe to live **up there** children… I would know. My __**daughter **__would know, because she's seen it… She's seen __**true life **__up there…"_

_That would mean… That would mean that Winona is- __**she is-**_

His blue eyes snapped wide open as he gasped, his hand dropping away from his face to clutch onto his bed sheets at his side.

"_She's __**alive!**_"

A loud explosion erupted from the hallway, shaking the floor under his feet and making him jump three feet out of his skin. He darted up, knocking his switchblade and his sharpener onto the floor as he dashed to the door, slapped a hand to the console to open it, and looked outside. Flaming debris littered the hallway.

_Just another explosion..._ Butch told himself with a shake of his head, turning back into his apartment. As his hand hovered over the door console to close it, a blood curdling scream echoed towards him, chattering his teeth in his mouth.

"_Mom! Monica!_ **_NO!_**"

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><p><strong>AN: BAHAHA! I am TERRIBLE for leaving you guys with a cliff hanger... Honestly, I was having trouble writing up this chapter D: I didn't know what to write for you guys... So I did a little digging in the Vault's history because I recalled a conversation I had with Moira about another Vault Dweller that came to Megaton before the LW does. She said it wasn't too long before I came along, so I decided to dig around in the "Vault archives" and found information on a scouting team that came to Megaton as "ambassadors" once upon a time ;D So THIS lovely chapter just so happened to be kind enough to write itself! (After I did more research on the other members of Vault 101... I didn't realize that there are more people than who you are familiar with as you grow up, based on other dead bodies you find while escaping and returning e_e It gave me a total "Mindfuck!" moment, I swear...)**

**Anywho! I hoped you guys enjoyed this chapter, because I have so many more ideas in store for Butch down in Vault 101... Oh, and you guys can expect to see Dolly coming back REAL soon, if you remember her from the earlier chapters ;3!**

**If you can figure out the one who screamed the very last line, I'll give you some brownie points! And maybe a cookie... Whichever you prefer~ but don't forget to review on this chapter! I'd really like some feedback on how I'm writing Butch's chapters inside the Vault.**

**Also, a quick note, I'm curious to see how my readers view Winona, and how they picture Widget in their minds while they read. Whether you have a knack for drawing, or you can't draw a stick figure to save your life (because I certainly can't draw... boo-hoo D;!), I would LOVE to see some of you guys draw your favorite scenes from this story so far! If you DO draw a picture, please inbox me to notify me about where I can find it! (like DeviantArt or some other website!) Don't be afraid to include some of Bethesda's characters, or if you're interested in drawing up Dolly or something (yes, Dolly is one of MY character's, but I'd also like to see your take on her as well!).**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**


	17. CHP 17: Dear Daddy I Miss You

**A/N: HEY EVERYOOOOONE! Alright, so lemme explain why I'm posting this chapter early...**

**I was looking at all the "traffic stats" for my stories, and found that my story "Another War For Your Textbooks" has_ been viewed 10,000 TIMES!_**

**I was SO stunned to find that so many people have read that story that I wanted to do a "thank you" for all my readers by posting chapters for all my ongoing stories as a sort of celebration! Lucky you, guys ;3!**

**So I hope you guys enjoy the newest chapter of Winona's adventure!**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

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><p>"Where do you think <em>you're<em> going, my dear Winona?" Mr. Burke asked shrewdly, gazing down at Winona through the dark lenses of his glasses.

Only moments ago, Winona shut off Widget and slipped her into her jumpsuit pocket, grabbed her bag, and went to the door- spouting apologizes and excuses as to why she couldn't help him. He no sooner got up when she was halfway to reaching the door that he pinned her there- hands pressed to the chipped wood above both her shoulders. Her bag was on the ground in front of her buckled knees, one of the straps clasped tightly in her sweaty hand with the other gripping the front of her Vault suit so tightly her knuckles were as white as her hair.

"I- I'm sorry-" She murmured shakily, unlatching her trembling hand from her Vault jumpsuit to slide it across the door, her fingers fumbling to find the doorknob. "But I a- am _not_ going to he- help you murder innocent p- p- people…"

"_Innocent?_" He gave a low chuckle, pressing closer to her so her body was pinned to the door by his. "You believe that the Neanderthals that fill this stinking pit of a town are _innocent?_ They are _far_ from it, in fact." He gave a dark, taunting smirk.

"And- And how do _you_ know what innocence is?" She challenged, her brows crinkling together in determination. "It's not just this town, is it? You see _everyone_ as someone beneath you! How do you see me? Another brainless grunt for your task because you're too high and mighty to get your hands dirty from the _Neanderthals that fill this stinking pit of a town?_"

Winona let out a wheezing croak as one of Mr. Burke's hands pushed itself from the door and clasped around her neck- constricting his long fingers around her smooth throat with his thumb caressing the angle of her jaw. He tilted her head back so it connected with the door gently, and the smirk on his face deepened when her hand let go of her backpack strap and wrapped around his wrist pleadingly. Her eyes screwed tightly shut, her mouth opening and closing, gasping for air like a floundering fish. The only sounds that passed her lips were gagging noises.

"Innocence, Winona?" Pinning her by her neck to the door, his other hand pushed away and became free to lightly caress her coffee toned cheek with his smooth knuckles. She flinched away from his barely grazing touch with her heart hammering in her chest, but his choking hand kept her from moving at all- to let him do as he pleased to her.

"Innocent is a child and his dog, playing in the streets without a care in the world if he had forgotten that the ice cream truck was supposed to come that day and it was scorching outside… That innocence is tainted when his father comes speeding down the street and hits the dog, right in front of the child."

Winona cracked one of her eyes open to see his face nearing hers. Both of her eyes suddenly snapped open in alarm and panic, as her breathing quickened.

"Innocent is a sweet girl from someplace else- someplace untainted by war and grime and bloody dust… She is a virgin. That innocence is tainted when a man who lusts for another woman's touch decides to take advantage of that girl's sweetness, and she walks out of that dark alleyway with blood running down her thigh."

"St- Stop it…" Winona wheezed pleadingly, screwing her eyes tightly shut again. "Just- Just _stop it…_"

"You asked me if I knew what innocence is, so I am simply answering your question. I _know _innocence as well as I _know_ when something is tainted. I took an interest in you because I believe that you have a remarkable talent that I was positive would do this world some good… But you have come to _severely _disappointing me." His brows came together in slight discontent, but the expression went away no sooner than it had appeared on his face.

"There isn't a world anymore." The words she spoke seemed to have caught his interest, because he tilted his nose down and looked at her over the rim of his glasses with the seriousness pooling in his dark eyes. "I may have been in a Vault all my life… Or so I _thought_ I had…" Moriarty's words floated back into her mind- "_Persistent little flower, aren't ye? Then and now, it would seem..."_- and she shook her head clear of the nagging thoughts. "But I know what the world was like before the bombs fell. As far as the Wasteland is concerned, the United States is the only nation that survived the blasts. Unless you can prove to me we are not alone here, than I will continue believing everything else is dead."

The taunting smirk returned to Mr. Burke's face. "Such a depressing outlook on life, my dear Winona… How did you get so _negative?_"

"I spent too much of my time keeping company with a man who wanted to slaughter an entire town…" She growled, her stomach twisting into a knot upon realizing what she said. Had she _ever_ talked back to anyone like that? She scanned the databank of her memory for answers- no, she never has. Not to Amata, not to Mr. Brotch, _never _to her father. The first time she had to lip off to someone, and it was a lethal man like Mr. Burke!

His smirk deepened to that dangerous, wolflike level that sent a chill up and down her spine. He tightened his grip on her neck for a fraction of a second, as if testing out if it were fragile enough to break, before loosening enough so she could breathe without struggling. His hand slid down to the base of her neck, resting on her collar bone.

"Hmm… Maybe there is something in you after all that could be quite valuable despite your little- _outburst._"

Now that she could breathe without any hindrances, eyes watering from the rapid rush of air proceeding into her lungs, she slowly dropped her hand into her jumpsuit pocket. Her hand clasped around Widget's lifeless body, and she fingered the little ladybug bot's power eye.

"Why- Why _me?_ Why a girl who just tumbled out of a Vault, who doesn't have a lick of experience out here? Why not someone who has the skill and the qualifications- and the absence of _conscience _needed to rig the bomb for you?"

She could feel Widget buzzing with life in her pocket, fidgeting in her clasped palm. She stroked Widget's face, trying to get her to be still.

"Why _not_ you? Why _not_ a girl who just came from a Vault… Looking for her father?"

Her hand tightened around Widget, who let out a quiet squeak of surprise- but Mr. Burke didn't seem to hear it because he said nothing. He continued to stare into her eyes over the rim of his glasses, watching Winona's lavender eyes widen in shock as her jaw lowered slightly.

"How- How do you-?..."

"I was sitting in the corner of Moriarty's bar when you came in. I heard you speaking with the ghoul about information on your father… Think about this, Winona. If you were to join me and rid the Wasteland of this town, you would have all the caps you'd need to supply yourself to search for your father. You'd have enough caps to supply a _scavenging team_ to look for your father _for _you! The possibilities are _endless_ when you have enough caps."

Winona could feel the tears stinging her eyes. This man was offering her a chance that anyone out in the Wasteland would _kill_ for.

_But- that's just it… I would have to kill in order to receive this change. I'd have to kill so **many** people._

"_Well, I'll be damned- __**another**_ _new comer!" _Lucas Simms greeting buzzed through her mind.

"_Hi, I'm Maggie! __**Woah-**__ what's that thing on your shoulder? It's so __**cool!**_" She remembered little Maggie, running up to her on her way to Moriarty because she was interested in Widget.

"_You wanna order something, smoothskin?"_

_G- Gob… _Her eyes screwed tightly shut and she dropped her head, her hair spilling over her shoulders. _I- I can't __**do this**__ to him! He was so kind to me… When was the last time anyone did something nice for him when he's always with that horrible Moriarty?..._

_"War. War never changes." _The sound of her father's voice snapping straight forward in her mind lingered behind the back of her eyes, and she suddenly saw his face in her vision.

"D- Dad…" Winona murmured under her breath and opened her eyes, letting the tears spill over and they dropped onto Mr. Burke's suit sleeve.

"If you are as smart as I know you are, you would realize that this once in a lifetime opportunity would give you everything you'd ever want and need out in the Wasteland," He smirked down at her once realizing she was crying. "What makes you believe that even if you were _able_ to get the caps from that drugged up harlot, that Moriarty would give you the information you asked of him? What if he asked for _more_ from you?..." He tilted his nose up so she could no longer see his eyes. "Remember what I said about a lustful man stealing the innocence of a sweet, otherworldly girl."

She gave a wan smile. "Well then, Mr. Burke… I appreciate your offer."

"That's it, my girl. I _knew_ you would come around, and see things the way I do." His smirk deepened to a grin- a wolf hungry grin that would haunt her nightmares, taking it by the sharp jaws and clawing at it with gnarly nails.

"But-" His grin faltered a fraction. "I guess I'm not as smart as you or I think I am."

Winona thrust widget out of her pocket, throwing her at Mr. Burke. The little ladybug bot let out a clattering squeal, shaken from suddenly being heaved, but clung onto the rim of Mr. Burke's glasses. The suited man stumbled back out of surprise, letting go of her neck in the process. Widget squealed a she kicked against his nose, pushing herself up so she was gripping the brim of his fedora and she pulled it down over his eyes, knocking his glasses to the floor.

_I __**gotta **__get out of here! _Winona's mind screamed as she grabbed the doorknob without removing her eyes from Mr. Burke trying to grab Widget, but the little robot was so quick and small his grabbing fingers only grazed her once or twice. She finally found the doorknob and twisted it, letting out a shriek when the door collapsed from behind her, swinging to the side, so she tumbled out of his house. She landed flat on her back on the metal platform used as a porch, quickly propping herself up on her elbows.

"_Widget!_" She cried out in horror when Mr. Burke finally caught the ladybug bot. Clasped tightly in one fist, her head popped out from between two of his fingers, and he smiled at her grimly. She made a hard swallowing noise, trembling in his grasp.

"You and your little- _nuisance,_ might be more trouble than you are _worth._" He hissed, whipping Widget at Winona so she hit her square in the chest, tumbling down to lay on her stomach. Widget sprawled out, one of her legs twitching in relief that she wasn't going to get crushed today with her antennas hanging in her eyes.

Winona sat up, plucking up Widget gently and cradled her in her cupped palms. One of her wings was bent, and the inventor cursed having to repair it. When her ears perked up, catching onto the sound of shuffling, she looked up with wide eyes to see Mr. Burke standing in the doorway of his home. In one hand was the fusion pulse charge, and in the other, was her backpack that held all of her tools, Gizmo's parts and blueprints- _and_ all her supplies.

"You are _very_ lucky that I am a patient and understanding man," He seethed. With his fedora missing, the light from inside his home seeped around his silhouette to make him look like a dark and formidable creature. With his glasses missing, she could only see the pinpoint shininess of his sharp eyes bearing down on her. "If I wasn't understanding, I would have _killed _you by now if it weren't for your intriguing talent of tinkering. If I wasn't patient, I wouldn't be giving you a _another chance to come to your __**senses**_- unless I was wrong, and you have _none __**at all.**_"

With that, he heaved the fusion pulse charge at her. She held up her hands to protect her face, accidentally dropping Widget who fluttered into the air before spiraling down into a nosedive due to her bent wing. The mechanism smashed against her elbow before clattering on the metal porch at her side with Widget landing on top of it, deformed wing sticking straight up like a ship's mast and twitching. Winona looked back up at him with the tears coming back to her eyes, then looked down at her pack, which was still in his possession. She was waiting for him to throw that at her, too.

But he never did. Instead, he smiled down at her, hoisting up the backpack to look at it with a new sense of curiosity that gripped her chest into a miserable and tight knot that made it difficult to breathe- like when he was choking her.

"I will keep this as _incentive_ for you." All the malice he had in his voice before was now gone, replaced by a mocking tone. "In case you decide to stray away or get any… _ideas,_ of betraying me." He looked down at her, stepping back into his house to put the bag down on one of his chairs and turned back to look at her, grabbing for the door.

"If you refuse my offer or betray me, you can expect to become thoroughly acquainted with a few _friends_ of mine… Despite your previous words, you are very bright. Do _not_ make the wrong decision, and do _not_ force my hand upon you, dear Winona…" He grinned, that wolfish grin with gleaming jaws and she thought she saw his nails begin to cling onto her subconscious- just _waiting _for her to fall asleep so he could tackle her nightmares.

"After all… Daddy isn't here to protect his precious little girl from lustful men, the monsters that she once thought only hid under her bed, and the _nightmarish nights_ that are soon to follow her."

Mr. Burke let out a long and dark string of chuckles as he closed the door, cutting off light from Winona so all she bathed in was the darkness of the night with the starlight weeping down upon her. She looked to the full face of the bright moon with tears streaking her cheeks as Widget crawled into her lap and up her torso to her shoulder, nuzzling against her jaw with her bent wing still sticking straight up.

"You were right... _War… _War _never_ changes, daddy… _And I miss you, __**so **__much…_"

* * *

><p>Winona shifted uncomfortably on Simms' doorstep after knocking on his door loudly, chewing on her bottom lip while waiting for someone to answer. Widget chittered tiredly on her shoulder, and she looked to the robot. She began to doze on her front legs, the glowing neon aqua of her eyes dimming more and more as she began to power off. Her legs gave out and she tumbled off of Winona's shoulders, falling into her cupped hands.<p>

Sometimes, if Widget was tired enough, she'd power down by herself without Winona having to do it manually by pressing her eye- like if her internal battery had run dry. Winona would have to recharge her somehow, but she could do it in a few hours when her little companion got some much needed rest. They both had a very long day.

The door suddenly swung open, startling her, and she looked down to see a little boy with dark skin- darker than Lucas'- standing before her while holding the door open. She tried to give him a friendly smile, but it came out weak and tired.

"Hello. My name is Winona Parker, does a man named Lucas Simms live here? Or am I at the wrong house?"

"Dad's upstairs. I'll get him for you." The boy answered, briefly shutting the door and she heard the little patter of feet against metal as he ran to retrieve his father.

_I didn't know Mr. Simms had a child… _She thought curiously as she slipped the lifeless body weighing down in her hands into her jumpsuit pocket. The only people she knew, or had the _pleasure_ of meeting, were Lucas Simms when she entered Megaton, Gob at the saloon, Moriarty, Mr. Burke, Doc Church, and little Maggie. She knew no one else, although Maggie spoke of the man who takes care of her. She said his name was Billy, Billy Creel, and he's the only one in town with an eye patch. She recalled the little girl's words when she went to the saloon with the fusion pulse charge in her possession and she saw a man with an eye patch sitting at the end of the bar sipping on a Nuka-Cola. She thought of introducing herself, but decided it wasn't a good idea, for the moment.

Instead, Winona went up to Gob and asked if he could keep the fusion pulse charge until she needed it. He began flinging questions at her; _"Where is your stuff? Did that stuffy prick try anything? Why are your eyes puffy and red? Were you crying? Did he __**make **__you cry? Wait, what's __**that **__thing? Another toy of yours?"_ She tried to answer him as truthfully as she could without revealing too much- so, in all honesty, it wasn't the truth at all.

"_My backpack is with Mr. Burke. Why? Oh- he offered to hold onto it for me. I was going to give him my new little invention to hold onto as well, but he left before I could give it to him."_

"_What? __**No,**__ he didn't do anything to me."_

"_I __**was**__ crying- I just miss my dad so much… I sometimes wonder if I'll __**ever **__find him."_

"_This thing? I was- uh- __**battery!**__ It's a battery. I brought it with me from the Vault, it helps me recharge Widget when she's running out of energy."_

Winona could tell Gob didn't know if he should believe most of what she said, and she could see in his filmy eyes that he was suspicious that something _did_ happen between her and Mr. Burke. She was thankful that he said nothing, though, he probably thought it wasn't his place to say, and took the fusion pulse charge and hid it underneath the bar's counter in the very back. A little hatch was back there, he claimed that was where all the good liquor was, but it was never really opened unless Moriarty had a bad day. Even then he'd usually just smack him around and immediately feel better. She bade him a thank you, waved goodbye, and quickly left so he wouldn't see her start to cry again. She didn't like the image of the poor ghoul being abused by such a cruel man when Mr. Burke's threats already plagued her mind.

_Oh yeah, Winona- lie to him. Just keep on __**lying **__to poor Gob when he might be able to help you out of this mess!_

But she knew it was no use. If she told Gob, he could be in danger. If she told Gob, he wouldn't be able to help anyways because he had mentioned before that he was _never_ allowed to leave the saloon, as Moriarty technically _owned _him. If she told Gob, he might get suspicious and not want to be her friend anymore… Maybe even tell someone and get her into trouble for something she didn't do- or worse, word would get back to Mr. Burke and he'd kill them both!

"_Winona!_ Hey, are you all right, kid?" Fingers snapped in front of her eyes and she blinked herself back to reality, looking up into the worried face of Lucas.

"O- Oh… Mr. Simms." He removed his hand from her shoulder and gave a weary sigh when she finally answered. "S- Sorry. I was lost in thought."

"My boy tells me you were looking for me. How can I help you?" He was no longer wearing the wide brimmed hat and long leather duster he had on earlier when they first met. Now, he was wearing a dirtied t-shirt and baggy slacks.

_Can I do this? Can I tell him about what Mr. Burke is trying to force me to do?... Will he be able to __**help me?**_

"Girl, c'mon inside. You look like you're about to pass out cold!"

_I'll do it. I'll __**tell **__him. This is it, Winona. You can't back down now._

"O- Okay…" Winona murmured, giving a subtle nod as she came inside and Lucas closed the door behind her.

But then, she remembered that Mr. Burke maybe the only person who could help her find her father...

* * *

><p>Winona waited impatiently on Mr. Burke's porch, staring into the framed window on his front door and into the darkness of his house. It was about one in the morning, she knew, she kept checking the clock on her Pip-Boy after she pounded on his door with an iron fist and waited for him to answer.<p>

_What if he's not home? _She wondered fearfully.

But she wasn't quite sure if the fear ebbed away when the lights in his house flicked on or if the fear deepened, so she took a deep breath to calm herself. It didn't work much, because when the door flung open to reveal a tired Mr. Burke in nothing but crimson satin pajama bottoms, hoisting up an elbow to lean into against the doorframe with his fingers pressed into his eyes, she let out a low gasp. It might have been more so from the fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt, and she's never seen anyone other than herself naked or even _partially _naked. She tried to keep her lavender eyes trained on his face so it wouldn't wander back down to his torso, which was finely chiseled with muscles.

"_Please_ tell me you have come to my home in the middle of the night with good reason or so _God _help you, my dear Winona-"

"_I did it._" She interrupted him with hard eyes and she could feel her stomach heaving up in her midsection. She gripped the pants legging of her jumpsuit tightly in her fists at each of her thighs.

He continued to press his fingers into his eyes and gave an airy sigh.

"I apologize. I was woken up in the middle of the night so my mind is not functioning properly as of this moment. _Would you __**care **__to __**elaborate?**_"

"_**I rigged the bomb.**_" Winona hissed, gripping her pants legs even tighter- to the point where her hands were trembling. She was between passing out or vomiting on his porch, but she supposed the adrenaline pumping through her kept her from doing either.

Mr. Burke seemed to be wide awake from her words as he removed his massaging hand from his tired eyes and stared back at her like the business man she was familiar with seeing- impassive expression in his face with a stony coldness in his sharp eyes. He only gave her a thin smirk and an amused hiccup of a chuckle before stepping back and swooping an arm to the red cushion chairs nearby inside his house- all without saying a word.

Winona forced herself to step forward, getting closer and closer to either passing out or throwing up when she saw her yellow, bulging backpack of Gizmo's parts on his chair- obviously having been untouched since he threw it there and left her outside only hours earlier.

"Well then- in light of your smartening up, we must make haste in returning." He spoke, and she heard more cold amusement in his voice than she ever did since meeting him. He turned back to look at her, his smirk now a hungry grin as he shut the door.

"Re- Returning?... Where are we going?"

"_To __**Tenpenny Tower**__, my dear."_


	18. CHP 18: The Writing on the Wall

**A/N: Good MORNING my lovelies! Sleep well? Ready to start the day with a new chapter to read? Because I'm starting the day with posting a new chapter for you all ;D!**

**Butch's chapter didn't come out as well as I had hoped, but if it tends to bother me enough I will most likely tweak it.**

**Unless I have no time.**

**...Or I'm too lazy. Or forget xD! Sorry.**

**Anywho, I hope you enjoy another Butch DeLoria chapter! Like I mentioned before, Dolly is making a guest appearance! Hope you guys missed that plastic bitch ;3 'Cause she sure missed you! And her Butchie-Poo, of course xDD**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konsfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>"It- It <em>hurts!<em>" Christine sobbed, clutching her hands to her chest, hunched over on her chair and rocking back and forth in the awkward position she was sitting in. She shook her head, tears beading down her face. "I- It h- hu- hurts _so _mu- _**much!**_"

Butch glanced away, folding his arms over his chest. He wasn't too comfortable around girls who cried- he'd tease guys who cried, like Freddie when he gave him a swirlie in the toilet the male residents of Vault 101 _never_ used when they were about 16, maybe 17- but never girls. He _never_ teased girls. That was like asking for a boot to the junk, and he preferred where his junk was right now- _outside _of his body.

Besides, what was he _supposed _to say? _"Oh, hey Kendall- sorry your dad's in a coma 'cause Winona smacked him around with her bat and now your mother and little sister just __**burned **__to a blackened crisp like a marshmellow roasting over a campfire!" _No. He could see it playing in his head; no matter how kind he was with his words, and no matter how he sliced it, it was still going to be a shit pie. It'd still _taste_ like a shit pie.

The Serpent King didn't have to stew awkwardly for too long though, as Old Lady Palmer came over with a large white tube of some sort of cream, three bottles of water, and a white dish towel. She kneeled in front of Christine, still rocking back and forth in her chair, and smoothed her frazzled brown hair down soothingly.

"_Shhh._ It's alright dearie, I know it hurts… Can you hold out your arms for Old Lady Palmer? I'd like to take a look."

"It- _hurts! __**Too much!**_" She sobbed, still shaking her head back and forth- but in refusal now.

"Please, darling? I only want to help you. The sooner I am able to clean you up, the sooner I am able to make you all better." She pleaded, placing a hand under her chin and tilted her face up, still petting Christine's ruffled brunette hair. She gave a weathered smile.

Christine choked back another sob and gave a stiff nod, slowly holding out her trembling hands. Butch had to look away, as his stomach felt like it was just catapulted up into his throat.

On her right hand, from her fingertips to the middle of her lower arm, was burned. The same was for her left hand, but her _entire _arm from her fingertips to her elbow joint. The burn on her right hand looked really painful- riddled with red and white bubbling blisters on the upside of her hand, clumped together like a festering disease of some sort. Her left arm? Oh _fuck-_ _**that **_was a _completely_ different story. He didn't know if it was pain_ful _or pain_less,_ and the reason why Butch struggled with this was because the skin was almost completely _gone._ It looked like it was melted off from her flesh, and it had run down to a little bit above her wrist where it stayed as a brown-red crust, littered with skin bubbles and blisters. Her fingernails were missing on that hand, and the rest of her left hand looked like the hardened bunch of brown-red crust of skin.

To put it simply- it looked like something from his _worst _nightmares.

"Oh dear… That fire sure got you good, sweetie…" Old Lady Parker frowned and shook her head slightly.

_Yeah, but not as good as it got her ma and little sis._ Butch's mind scoffed, but he said nothing, and he kept his eyes away from Christine's face or her arms.

"Wha- What are yo- you gonna _do?_" Christine hiccupped through her tears, biting down on her lower lip.

The old woman gave a fretful sigh. "You have _severe_ second degree burns. Anne's father, my husband- _bless his soul-_ had gotten burns like this down on the reactor level. After I clean you up and inject you with a Stimpak, it will still take _weeks_ to heal. Even then, there will be a lot of scarring."

"Do- do you have to-… _cut my arm off?_" She asked meekly, still hiccupping fearfully.

The petrified words fell on Butch's ears, and he snapped his eyes back to the two women, forcing himself to stomach the rising bile. He knew it was probably as bad as it looked, but bad enough where it had to be _amputated?_

Old Lady Palmer opened one of the bottles of water and took the dishrag, draping it over Christine's lap and gently placed her arms down on it.

"Oh goodness, no! You will surely keep _both _of your hands! I can't promise you that this isn't going to hurt, but you need to keep still… Alright?" She nodded, still biting down on her lower lip. "I'm going to pour this water over your arms- it should stop burning and help clean you up a bit. Susie, please come here and keep Christine from moving."

Susie, who had been sitting in the corner on one of the gurneys with her knees hugged tightly to her chest, nodded and hopped off. She jogged to them, coming around Christine in her chair and clamped a hand down on each of her shoulders.

"I'm sorry about what happened to your mother and Monica… I can only imagine-" She began in a slow, cautious tone.

Christine turned her head, giving a sad and weak smile with the tears still streaking down her cheeks.

"Y- You don't ha- have to s- say so- sorry… It's no- not your fa- fault. The fire w- wa- was just too hot… _**Too hot **__to save them…_"

She screamed when Old Lady Palmer began to pour the water onto her burns, streaming around the blisters to run down her arms and onto the dish rag in her lap. She squirmed under Susie's grip, throwing her head back and howling like an animal. Butch cringed away, going out the door for some fresh air- as if it would help, being stuck in a hole underground…

_Christine's burned, Amata got the nag kicked __**right **__outta her and everyone else is dead or hidin'…_ He thought sadly, gazing up and down the hall. No one had seen the radroaches for a few hours, so Old Lady Palmer said that they were probably picking over the dead bodies littering the Vault. She claimed the population of roaches seemed to have boomed dramatically- probably because all the chaos had dimmed down the numbers of people trying to kill the little bugs, and they may have a nest somewhere. He didn't think the latter was true, mostly because Stanley knew every inch of the Vault like the back of his hand- down to the last nook and cranny. He'd know if there was a nest somewhere, wouldn't he?

Butch looked over his shoulder at the clinic door where Christine's muffled screams of agony still carried on to him, and somewhere in the mix he heard a few _"You're doing great, sweetie." _out of Old Lady Palmer and a _"It's okay, scream as loud as you want!"_ out of Susie. He shook his head and slicked his hands over his hair, smoothing down any stray hairs back into the styling product. He then took out Toothpick and flicked it open, tossing it up into the air and caught it by the handle- threw it up again and caught it by pinching the very tip of the blade between the knuckles of his first and middle fingers.

Fixing his hair or working with Toothpick helped him clear his head, but right now it wasn't working. His mind was too muddled with thoughts- _what happens if there __**is **__a roach nest 'round here? It don't help nobody that our only doctor's gone- what if more people get hurt, and we run outta supplies? What are we gonna do 'bout all the dead bodies? Jus' toss 'em on into the furnace? That'll make the roaches wanna take it out on __**us **__with nothin' to eat, won't it?_

Butch shook his head, throwing Toothpick up into the air to do a few flips before it came back down and he caught it by the blade. With a growl that his usual methods weren't working to mellow him out, he closed the blade, pinching his finger as he did so. He said nothing, made no sound of surprise or cry of pain that his finger got caught, and looked down to the little sliver of a cut on his thumb. A jewel of crimson pushed past the skin and beaded there. He placed his thumb inside his mouth, against his tongue, and began to suck- applying pressure to the minor wound. A tingle of copper exploded in his mouth from the blood when, aside from Christine's screaming behind him and Old Lady Palmer and Susie's comforting comments that weren't exactly _effective,_ he heard a voice call out.

"I always _knew_ you were a big baby." A shrill voice called mockingly, laced with anger.

He tilted his eyes up, not even bothering to turn his head because he already knew who it was. He removed his thumb from his mouth.

"That the best 'ya can come up with, Dolly?" He smirked when she gave a quiet, nasally scoff of irritation. He turned away from her and leaned a shoulder into the wall by the clinic door, folding his arms over his chest.

"…Butchie baby, I've missed you." She walked over, standing in front of him with her own arms folded on her chest but underneath her breasts, pushing up from under them in an attempt to make them seem bigger.

_The bitch certainly don't waste anytime trynna get back to basics… Probably trynna put on a show for the Butch-Man._

He knew that she was trying to apologize, she had done it before when he got angry with her, and it worked- or maybe it was because every time she apologized, it was a blowjob instead of some hand work... It wasn't working- not _this_ time, no. He was still pissed at her. She was going to leave his mom to _die,_ for fuck's sake!

_Winona didn't, though… She saved my ma. Even when ma __**smacked **__her around, she didn't do nothin'. She just sat there and took it._

Before Butch even realized what he was saying, his lips moved with his thoughts and his voice came out bold and challenging.

"Why can't 'ya be like Winona?"

If Dolly wasn't wearing so much makeup, she probably would have been flushed red with anger to the point that she looked like a cherry tomato. Her lips, caked with bright cherry red lipstick, pursed tightly together and smudged as her eyes watered. Then, she smacked him across the face. Not hard enough where it stung, but it _surely _got his attention.

"Well I'm _not_ like Winona, so if you want a flat-chested penny whore than you can go and _get one!_"

Butch snapped his head back to her, feeling his thin lips pull taut over his teeth as he snarled at her like a rabid dog. Before he could even think about stopping himself, and before she could get away, he grabbed her by her jacket collar and hauled her close to him, only tightening his grip.

"The fuck do you get off thinking you can hit me like that?" He asked in a low growl. "And you're damn right you ain't like Winona! She's-…" His snarl softened, along with the angry crease of his brows over his eyes. "_She's…_"

"Out there? Probably _dead?_" Dolly replied tauntingly in a nasally snort, the grin coming to her lips despite Butch's hold on her. "Face it baby- she's gone now. All you've got left is _me…_"

_Well I don't __**want **__you._ His mind screamed, and he let go of the collar of her jumpsuit with a frown. _I want-…_ What _did_ he want? He wanted things to go back to normal- that's what. Actually, no, not _completely_ normal. He'd still be sitting halfway bored to death in class or attending to his barber sessions, and although that was when the Tunnel Snakes reigned in Vault 101, they would ride again (or slither again, _whatever_)- and in full force, no less. Things would get better, even though he was alone and he sometimes missed having someone to talk to who actually somewhat _enjoyed _his company, radroaches roamed the hallways picking over dead bodies, explosions were breaking out-

Christine let out another banshee scream from inside the clinic, making Butch cringe and Dolly look over at the door curiously. She glanced back at him.

…And people were getting _severe burns._

"The hell's going on in _there?_" She hooked a thumb to the door, with her other hand on her cocked out hip.

"Kendall got burned. An explosion went off in her apartment, killed her ma and little sis." He answered absentmindedly, looking over his shoulder as well as his hands dove into his leather jacket pockets. "She tried gettin' them out. Old Lady Palmer's takin' care of her."

Dolly snorted and rolled her eyes, folding her arms over her somewhat endowed chest.

"That old bat's still flapping around here? Thought the roaches would have eaten her by now!" She let out a nasally chortle.

"Fuckin' _watch it,_ Dolly." He hissed, glaring back at her and the smile disappeared from her face, turning into a slightly fearful frown. "She's helpin' people. What have _you_ done?"

Dolly frowned even more so, her pointing hand dropped to her side slowly, as if she were taking a moment to think.

"That's right- you haven't done _shit _all. You were gonna leave my ma to _die,_ you _wanted_ to leave her to die and make a break for up _there!_" He gently squeezed and massaged his temples with one hand, closing his eyes tightly shut. "Are you fuckin' _nuts_ or somethin'?"

"And what have _you_ done?" She yelled, pointing at him angrily. "You say I haven't done anything- but you were gonna leave your mom to die, too! You wouldn't even go into your apartment!"

Butch growled a warning growl at her once again, and she looked away, hugging herself. That's when he finally noticed that she was still wearing the leather jacket he gave her when they were younger- but that was about three or four years ago, now.

"I- I didn't come looking for you to pick a fight, baby." She glanced up at him with a certain apology dangling in her gleaming eyes.

"You were lookin' for me?"

Dolly nodded. "I wanted to say that I miss you… I want you back, Butchie!" She grabbed at the collar of his jacket, pulling their bodies flush against one another. "Please tell me you missed me… Please tell me you still _love me…_" Her voice cracked, and she looked up into his eyes again.

Butch didn't understand women. He was under the impression that the last time he saw Dolly, he made it _very _clear that he didn't love her- he _never_ loved her, nor will he _ever _love her. The broad couldn't take no for a damn answer, could she?

But before he could get a word in, her lips slathered in thick lipstick smashed into his in a song they hadn't commenced for a few days now- he didn't remember what day it was the last time they spoke, outside of his apartment. But it couldn't have been _that _long, even though he smacked the pause button on this tune with an iron hammer and it felt like she was hitting every sour note imaginable. The kiss felt rushed, and lacked anything good like before. He pushed her away, already feeling the tackiness of her lipstick drying on his own lips. She looked out of breath, panting heavily with the tears coming down her face in streams.

Another word came to mind of what that kiss was- _desperate._

"I gotta sit on things, Dolly." He shocked himself the moment the words spilled out and he shook his head, peeling her hands off and turned to walk away with his hands back in his jacket pockets.

"Butch- Butch _DeLoria _you get back here this _instant!_" She cried shrilly, stomping her foot down.

He gave a cheeky grin from ear to ear as he wiped her lipstick off with the back of his hand, looking down at the bright cherry smear glistening on his skin as he turned a corner in the hallway. He could have told her he was happy to see her, but then he would have been lying. Well, _partially_ lying. In a way, he _was _happy to see her. His _Tunnel Snake_ was getting a bit lonely. Not too long after yelling at Dolly, he realized he'd have to apologize sooner or later before his sexual frustration got the better of him. It just made the encounter all the more sweeter- knowing that she apologized to him and he was basically reaping all the benefits that came with it.

The sound of crunching glass awakened him from his thoughts and he looked down, stepping back and lifting up his boot to find that he stepped on a large sliver of glass. He furrowed his brows together in confusion, looking up to find more shards of glass littered all in front of him in the hallway- with a broken apartment window at his side. Thick curtains were draped over the windowsill where sharp teeth of broken glass cut into the fabric, and a dinner table chair was at his far right, a little farther down the hall. It looked as if it had been thrown out the window. He looked to the open door of the abused apartment, finding it completely pitch black with the lights off and the door seemed to be jammed as the console by the doorway sparked and buzzed, the interface removed and the wires torn out.

Butch's eyes widened as he made a cautious step towards the open door, his boots picking up on more crunching of glass with every step he took and he heard nothing from inside the room. He looked down at his Pip-Boy- it gave no sign of life anywhere around him. He looked into the darkness once again, swallowing hard with his heart throwing itself against his ribcage as he took his first step into the apartment.

_This is Winona's apartment…_ He thought numbly as he finally turned up the light on his Pip-Boy screen so it acted as a flashlight- the light streaming in through the broken window wasn't enough for him to see, it was too dark.

But the moment he turned on his light, he wished he could have shut it off again.

The room was a complete disaster. Furniture was flipped over and scattered around the room in disarray, couch cushions were ripped apart with all the stuffing torn out, and more glass littered the floor around him… When he looked up, there was black writing on the wall. In marker, in paint, in something else entirely- all _over _the wall.

_**Good riddance you freak!**_

_**I hope you and your bastard father die out there!**_

_**We should **__**never**__** have let you in!**_

Butch peeled his eyes away from the writing on the wall, but stopped- and turned back at the last message he read. It replayed over and over in his mind.

_**We should never have let you in!**_

_**We should never have let you in.**_

_**We should never have let you in…**_

_We should never have let __**who **__in?_ He wondered, chewing on his bottom lip. It was obvious whoever wrote the message was speaking of Winona and her father, but what did it _mean_ by letting them in?

Butch took a step back to get a better look at the writing - maybe it could give him some sort of clue… Maybe someone else wrote a similar message to that, or maybe he could recognize the handwriting and ask whoever wrote it-

His boot crunched on something thick, almost making him tip back. He turned his chin over his shoulder and looked down, finding that he stepped on a facedown plastic picture frame. He had accidentally cracked it open with his boot heel.

So out of curiosity, he turned around and crouched down with his arms on his knees, slowly outstretching a hand to pick up the cracked picture frame. He flipped it over and his eyes widened in horror at the eyes that stared back at him. The _faces_ that looked back at his.

It was Dr. Parker, Winona's father, and Winona _herself_- but at a very young age. He knew _exactly_ how old she was in that picture. She was ten, and he knew because she was wearing the dress Dolly gave her as a birthday present. She was holding a BB gun, hand on her hip with a little smile on her face as Dr. Parker had his arm around her shoulders, smiling as well.

Butch never knew she had a BB gun… He wondered if she still had it, almost ten years later. He wondered if she took it with her… He gave an absentminded smile.

_Heh. Winona- the Whammy Wonder. Feels like she's dead with the way I keep thinkin' about her…_

The thought sent Butch sprawling off the train tracks. Had he just admitted to himself that he was thinking? Yes- he had been, and _a lot_. Ever since she left, he knew he thought about her several times every day. He didn't know why, she'd just appear there- like a snowstorm mysteriously appearing on a clear and sunny day.

Looking around himself, left and right, and even out the window to make sure no one was looking in and watching him, he stared back down at the picture- back into Winona's eyes. He ran a fingertip over her smile, and then found himself smiling a little too.

The smile quickly disappeared as he held the picture frame high above his head and threw it down, watching and then _hearing_ as it smashed on the floor and fell apart with slivers of glass and plastic scattering about his feet. The skeleton of the frame lay before him with the picture of Winona and her father jutting out. He quickly peeled it out of the broken frame, folded it up, and shoved it into the inner pocket of his jumpsuit before getting to his feet in one fluid motion.

As he made his way to the door, smoothing his hair back into place, a glint caught his eye. He looked to it, finding a shard of glass sitting in the open doorway of the apartment bedroom. At the far side of the bedroom was another broken window, letting light filter in and illuminating the glass piece so it shone in his eyes.

He wondered if it was Winona's bedroom. He wouldn't know, because he had never set foot in her apartment before. He never had _reason_ to.

So with a hard swallow and hesitance brewing in his chest, he took a bold step forward- then another, and another- pacing himself towards what he assumed to be was her bedroom. His boot crunched on the glittering glass in the doorway as he passed over it and made his way to the room's center, looking around at the horrid mess. The bed was overturned and sticking halfway out the broken window. The dresser had all its drawers pulled out, and its empty skeleton laid face down at his feet. A metal table was flipped on its side at the far wall, while random odds and ends and other things scattered around the floor. He assumed it was all the inventor gadgets she probably didn't have time to take with her. A stand up floor lamp was on the floor as well by the far wall, its shade knocked off and had rolled to the dresser.

But what struck him the most was the way the room _smelled._ He took a deep inhale - remembering what it smelled like _exactly._ His bed smelled just like the scent lingering around him after his mother smacked Winona and she fell back onto it. The entire room smelled like lilacs, and something else that was sweet.

Butch turned back to the door, stopping at something dripping down the wall and making soft plopping noises on the floor. His jaw dropped to his chest and his eyes bulged out of their sockets at the wording that stared back at him- written in what looked to be grease or oil. A can of it sat on the floor below the writing, oil dripping from around the mouth of the metal canister like rain dripping down a window.

_**PENNY WHORE**_, it read in big, angry, finger-painted letters.


	19. CHP 19: Thirty Years, No Longer Counting

**A/N: THIS CHAPTER MADE ME RAGEQUIT SOOOO MANY TIMES YOU HAVE NOOOO IDEA!**

**I'm just so glad that it's over and I can finally post it =_=**

**I hope it confuses you guys- 'cause if it does, then I have succeeded ;D! If you think hard enough, you'll know why I want this.**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoy, because if this chapter bugs me enough I will certainly rewrite it... I enjoyed some of the details I used in this, though xD**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Winona gazed around the Wasteland that lay rolled out below her like a dingy carpet, flecked with black for the dead plants, brown for the decrepit buildings, grey for the broken concrete road that looked like severed bits of ribbon on her carpet of a dead world. To her left, she saw a little building below the balcony that was raised a few stories high- not as high as Tenpenny Tower, but it looked interesting. And out on the flat plains of the Wasteland, a raised dimple on the landscape seemed to wink at her under the sunlight waning behind the Earth, giving her one last peek before disappearing for the night to give rise to the moon.<p>

"Tenpenny will be here shortly." Mr. Burke spoke from behind her, causing her to jump three feet in the air and look back at him over her shoulder. He was standing only a few feet away with his hand on the door as he closed it and stared back at her.

She chewed on her full bottom lip, looking back out onto the Wasteland.

"Are you nervous, my dear Winona?" He asked as his shoe heels clicked against the floor, making his way to stand at her side. He folded his arms behind his back formally. "You need not be. I trust that with your skills, our plan will go along nicely."

"Ye- Yeah… _Nicely…_" She murmured, leaning her elbows onto the balcony railing and gave a shaky sigh- how could she _do _this? _How __**could **__she?... _She stared into the palms of her hands, as if hoping an answer would have magically appeared before her- as if burned into her flesh.

"Remember- in order to gain you must give. Necessary sacrifices must be made in order to possess what it is you wish to grasp." He spoke indifferently.

"_Necessary sacrifices…_" Winona shook her head, placing her forehead in her hands and heaved another shaky sigh as her stomach twisted into knots and tightened in her midsection, feeling as if it was constricting her ability to breathe some.

"Yes- necessary sacrifices. Imagine, you will be able to supply yourself to search for your father with all the caps Tenpenny will award you with," He shot her a thoughtful look over the rim of his glasses, and for a second, she could have sworn she saw something else in his face. Like a phantom of a frown- you don't know if you really saw it, all you knew was that you thought it was haunting there. "In fact, I'm positive you would be able to supply a _team_ to search for him _for _you. You'd never have to set foot out of Tenpenny Tower again, if that is what you wish."

She mulled over the thought. _That much money? How much does a search party even __**go for**__ out here?... Oh my God- __**Winona!**__ Snap __**out**__ of it!_ She mentally punched herself in the ribs, and it somehow made her breathe easier.

That was until the door opened and she spun around. Mr. Burke continued standing in place with his hands clasped behind the small of his back, looking out onto the Capital Wasteland as if he had a dream he wished to spring to life. The open door revealed a fragilely aged man, with hair almost as white as Winona's own striking silvery white locks. Blue eyes, looking almost milky, were practically hidden in comparison to the wrinkled and sagged skin of his face. The corners of his mouth were turned slightly down into a displeasured frown, and likewise to Mr. Burke, he had his hand folded behind his back with the other on the doorknob as he stepped onto the balcony. The elderly man wore a red suit jacket with gold trim and buttons, black knee-high boots and white slacks. A red ascot was tucked under his chin into his jacket, pinned down by another gold button. He shot Winona a wan smile as he closed the door behind him and made his way towards her with an energetic kink in his step- something unexpected for a man that looked almost as old as the Wasteland probably was.

"Why hello, my dear girl! You must be the helping hand Mr. Burke has gained for his task. I was a little reluctant to believe that a man such as himself would need a hand, but from what he has told me, you will be quite the valuable asset."

Winona felt her stomach knot even more uneasily in her midsection as she gazed back over her shoulder at Mr. Burke. He looked like nothing more than a shadowed silhouette with the sun dipping lower and lower past the horizon. He unfolded his hands from behind his back to prop them onto the railing, putting his weight into his palms as he stared on to the concave dimple on the horizon.

_What exactly did you say to him, Mr. Burke?..._ Her mind whispered, as if she were asking him that question and not herself.

"I- I'm flattered…" She replied a little uncertainly, turning back to Mr. Tenpenny and shrugged out a hand for him. "My name is Winona Parker. Are you Mr. Tenpenny?"

"Indeed I am!" He shook her hand briefly before turning away, waving at her to follow him. "Now then, Mr. Burke has told me that you're an inventor! I've been eager to see one of your inventions."

She shot the old man a quizzical look as she poked through her jumpsuit pockets for Widget. It was the first person she's met who hasn't questioned the reason as to why she was wearing a Vault jumpsuit, and not only was he going to blow up a town full of innocent people, but he acted so nonchalant about the entire situation! She could feel a sense of anger- and fear- well up in her gut. This man, no matter _how_ old he was, was indeed heartless.

But, nonetheless, Winona brought out a lifeless Widget in her cupped hands and held her up in front of Mr. Tenpenny as he seated himself in a red cushion chair at her side- similar to the ones in Mr. Burke's abode back in Megaton. He stared at the little robot with a peculiar crook in his brow, rubbing his heavily sagged chin.

"It seems to be… Turned off?" He asked, looking up at her as a small child would if he were asking for a cookie from his mother. "Or perhaps broken?"

"She is _far_ from broken, Mr. Tenpenny." Winona gave a meek smile. Her stomach was performing flips that only a professional acrobat should be able to achieve, and it was keeping her from fully enjoying talking to someone about her inventions. "She is simply… Uhm… _Powered down_ is as simple as I can make it. She needs to be recharged, as her internal battery has run dry. She'll be up and flying around once she's juiced up again."

He gave her a strange smile that sent a ring of shivers up her spine, the same as when Mr. Burke smiled at her. The only difference with the way Mr. Tenpenny smiled at her and the way Mr. Burke smiled at her was that Mr. Burke made it a little… _charming,_ in a "_you would be better off keeping your distance_" kind of way. Mr. Tenpenny just made it downright _unnerving._

"I see. Well! I'd love to see more of your little toy, but we have more pressing matters to attend to!" He sat back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other, propping his elbows on each of his chair's arms and intertwined his fingers together in front of his mouth, lightly tapping on his upper lip with his pointer finger. "Please, Mr. Burke. I'm positively _ecstatic_ about seeing your work once again, by getting rid of that rather unpleasant blemish that is ruining the face of this great landscape!"

Mr. Burke nodded his head in gratitude to Mr. Tenpenny before stepping towards Winona, placing a hand on her shoulder and making her flinch in surprise. She placed Widget quickly back in her pocket and looked back at him over her shoulder, her rounded chin brushing against his knuckles.

"As much as I would enjoy taking credit, I simply cannot..." He turned away, hand still on her shoulder with the sun just a fraction from completely disappearing below the horizon, casting shadows over his masculine frame as he gestured to a shiny metal briefcase on a table by the railing. "She played an excellent hand in this, and therefore, I cannot take this opportunity from her. Would you mind… _Doing the honors, _my dear Winona?"

Winona swallowed hard, trying to force down the bile that threatened to escape from her mouth as she gazed down at the metal briefcase. Mr. Burke walked over and unlatched the clasps with a double click, slowly pulling the lips apart to reveal a motherboard of flips, switches, and blinking lights inside. She gazed at it with wide eyes of interest, her hand plunging into her pocket to fiddle with the black satin ribbon that was her mother's. She struggled with herself _not_ to tie her hair up with it, as she did when she was thinking and needed her hair out of her eyes. It helped her concentrate.

But she certainly could _not_ concentrate all her energy into a device that detonated a rigged bomb- no, she _wouldn't._

"The anticipation… The _eagerness-_ you could run a blade through it." He spoke, peeking at her from the corner of his eyes before turning his face to her. "Once you are done dedicating this to your memory, we shall begin."

Winona could feel the color drain from her face as her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She tried to swallow, but there was no saliva slicking the inner walls of her mouth. She pursed her full lips together at him, almost pleadingly.

"Well? Are you finished savoring the moment?" Mr. Tenpenny called behind her, his question followed by a sick chuckle. "Go on now, girl! Hop to it! This old man isn't getting any younger, now, _is _he?"

She stepped up to the briefcase, outstretching a trembling hand before hesitating and pulling it back to her chest, looking up at Mr. Burke again as she chewed on her bottom lip nervously. He had his arms folded behind his back, looking out onto the disappearing sun and the dimple that she now realized was probably Megaton. There was the haunting, again- the phantom of a frown that she wasn't quite sure was occupying his face. She lowered her hand again, fingers barely grazing the switch before she flipped it up with a flick of her wrist and then they danced across the keyboard, turning a knob and then pressing a button.

It felt so simple to her… So _real._

And then, she found truth in Mr. Burke's words. The anticipation could be cut by a knife. Dull or sharp, it would be cut by seemingly anything. The thought made her blood run cold as the chilly night air ran along her face, caressing her hair to fly behind her in oily strands.

Winona glanced to Mr. Burke for any sort of reaction, and by now she was positively certain. There was a frown on his face- a dangerous frown. Very, _very _dangerous.

"I don't believe I see much of anything that is spectacular- oh, pardon me. The water beggar by the front gate seems to be trying to fight off one of those ferals with a sharp stick…"

-:-

"I don't believe I see much of anything that is spectacular," Tenpenny grumped as he got up and squinted out over the railing by his chair, before his gaze turned to something else down below with sudden interest awakening in his eyes. "Oh, pardon me. The water beggar by the front gate seems to be trying to fight off one of those ferals with a sharp stick…"

Mr. Burke shifted towards the striking inventor, Winona, as Tenpenny watched, _in good fun,_ the filthy water beggar being ripped apart by a feral ghoul down below with his screams wafting up to them.

Something was amiss, he could just _feel _it- feel it _festering _in his gut… Megaton should have been a crater by now, filled with radiation, unfortunate bodies, and sharp teeth of metal jutting up into the sky- signaling the town's supposed white flag of surrender. He could feel the corner of his lips crack into a frown at that thought, which was something he had not done in a very long time. He turned his head to Winona, to whisper in her ear.

"May I remind you that you are playing a _very _dangerous game, my dear girl?" He hissed, finally tilting his eyes her way. She continued staring on unto Megaton's direction, a frown of her own gracing her face with her brows crinkled together. From this close, he could smell the Wasteland dust, and a bit of body odor with- _what __**is **__that?-_ an under layer of something undeniably sweet. Not like Nuka-Cola, but something a little more… _Organic._ He couldn't put his finger on it.

"You don't need to remind me," She finally spoke in a hoarse, quivering voice. He knew that she was speaking the truth- she knew the consequences of stepping on the toes of someone like Tenpenny. Her foot was hovering over _his_ toes as he warned her a final time.

"You are going to leave this building with a simple toss head-first over the _railing._" Burke snarled into her hair, and he smelled it again- that organic sweetness… The comfort it offered almost overwhelming him. "Do you have _any idea _as to what you are doing?"

Winona gave a wry, almost sad smile as she turned to him, her bangs overhanging her eyes- making them seem like ominous purple glows in the dark void of shadows. Burke suddenly wondered if monsters, Valkyries and harpies, were _real._

"Honestly, Mr. Burke?" He heard a rustle. "…Not a freakin' _clue._"

A faint glint of metal, a tire iron, was all that Burke saw as Winona lashed out at him in a duck, then swooping motion. Pain rung up from his heels to his rump as the thick metal collided into the back of his knee- the crook nestled in the elbow of the tire iron- and his limb was mercilessly yanked forward. Winona has lost her footing somewhere in the act, making her delivery a little shaky, but the force was still enough to have him flat on his back to look up into the ominous, purple glows of her face. They were almost _dancing, _it seemed like, behind her wintery bangs.

A sudden clatter snapped her eyes away from him in record time, and on the ground at his side, his beloved .44 magnum had slipped out of its holster. She quickly picked it up as he snarled and lashed out at her. The inventor had retaliated by smacking his outstretched and clawing hand with the elbow of her tire iron. A faint click rung in his ears, and as he looked up, she spun around to be staring back at Tenpenny. He was standing by the red plush chair he enjoyed so much, sniper rifle in hand with the stock digging into his shoulder and his eye grinning down the sight.

"Give it up, girl! Either way, you aren't going to leave this tower." He barked with an eerie smile coming to his wrinkled lips. "It is _your _choice as to whether or not you will leave this very _balcony __**alive!**_"

Winona simply blinked at him, as if she were unperturbed by having to stare down the barrel of a sniper rifle, but Burke could see the hand that was holding his .44 was shaking violently. She clutched it tightly as if hearing his realization, and the shaking stopped.

"I suggest that you stand down, Ms. Parker- that's if you were smart." His smile deepened to a malicious grin. Tenpenny _never_ loses. He is always on top in the end, no matter what he must sacrifice.

Tenpenny was the man who taught him that in order to gain you must give…

_What are you gaining by giving your life, my dear Winona?_ Burke thought with his mind reeling in a pitying tone. _You believe that you're __**saving **__those wretched people? You believe that I simply cannot pluck up another imbecile and simply do this over again? __**Do you?**_

…He suddenly felt quite insulted.

No. She has something up the sleeve of that Vault 101 jumpsuit she's worn since he first saw her almost two weeks ago- stumbling into Moriarty's to look for her father. She was quite bright, brighter than maybe even _he _realized, and only then did he _really _feel internally sore… He would never have the intelligence that she possessed, which is what made her valuable to not only him or to Tenpenny- but to the _entire _Capital Wasteland and all its inhabitants.

_And with all that knowledge, she's going to have her perfect mind splattered across the cement of this balcony._ He thought, his mind using a pitying tone once again. It was a damn shame, all right.

Winona chuckled at Tenpenny and shook her head. "You know, Mr. Burke said something like that to me once… _"If you were smart…"_ Maybe I'm not smart. Maybe I can't take direction that well from others." She looked up at him, her bangs parting to clearly reveal a glinting eye that made Burke back pedal a bit. It was sharp and cold, almost _feral _and _beastlike…_ It was frightening. "Or, maybe, you don't know me at all- and only _I _know me. Only _I _know _me_ in a way you will never know. So yes, Mr. Tenpenny, if I were smart, then I'd probably ask for forgiveness and let you do whatever you like to me… So let's agree to disagree and say that I'm not all that smart for doing this."

Her Pip-Boy came up in a blink of an eye, the sudden movement causing Tenpenny to flinch. A single button seemed to have been pressed, on the outer edge above the screen monitor, and a hatch flipped open with a click. There was a glimmer of metal as two darts shot out of the fascinating hatch, lodging themselves into Tenpenny' chest- right over his heart- with a sickening double _thunk._ The force made him step back a pace to brace himself and he looked down to the metal darts jutting out of his chest. He made no attempt to remove them as he, instead, laughed. Like a _maniac._

"Oh my! Mr. Burke, I believe you were sorely _misguided!_" He looked up to her with a dangerous grin. "_This_ is one of your invention, isn't it Ms. Parker? You're a disappointing inventor if you think that something as meager as _this_ will stop me! I'm not as old as you think!" He barked out more laughter, lowering his rifle a bit, not at all alarmed by her actions as he continued to taunt her. "You really thought that _this_ would kill me?"

Her Pip-Boy lowered to her side as Burke glanced from her to Tenpenny, not even considering that now would have been as good a time as any to get up and possibly tackle her or knock her over the railing. His eyes trained back onto the darts jutting out of his employer's chest, like metal spikes glinting in the moonlight, making his employer's shadows silhouette distorted.

Winona said nothing as there was a distinct metallic click, and Burke's .44 magnum discharged a bullet. There was the faint, devastated sound of ruptured flesh, and Tenpenny suddenly fell backwards to land in his favorite plush chair with his sniper rifle landing on the ground. He was _dead._

"Actually, Mr. Tenpenny…" She answered in a low voice, barely above a shaky whisper in volume. "I do."

He flashed his startled eyes to the inventor, trying not to let his jaw snap open in disbelief. His employer was _dead?_ _Killed _by the greenest person you could _ever _find out in the Capital Wasteland?

_She __**shot **__him!_ His mind screamed repeatedly._ She shot him, and- but- __**the **_**darts!**

But what startled him more was that she struggled to pull herself to the railing as she tossed his .44 magnum over carelessly. He was baffled and she struggled to walk because of the presence of a bullet wound in the fattest part of her calf, gushing crimson to seep down her pants leg and dribble on the dingy cement of the balcony. Each little drop, no bigger than a bottle cap, reflected the full face of the moon high above them. It was shrouded in clouds for a moment, and they were shrouded in darkness. When it came back out, she was now beginning to limp to the door with no regard to Tenpenny's now ex-right hand man.

_Tenpenny was shot- and yet- __**she's **__the one with the bullet wound?..._ He mused, almost completely _fascinated, _and looked onto the limp body of his elderly employer. His head lolled back, each of his hands stretched over the arms of the chair, his long legs strung out in front of his empty body.

_The darts. The darts. The __**darts.**_ His mind repeated over and over and _over._

Burke pushed all the nagging questions to the back of his mind as he shoved himself up from the ground, and jogged to Winona right as she collapsed. He caught her just before she connected with the ground, and looked down onto her angelic face as her Pip-Boy screen was illuminated by a harsh green flow- the words "left leg crippled" danced across the dark lenses of his glasses.

As he went inside, he looked onto Tenpenny' body again as he pulled the door open with a skilled hand- despite having Winona draped in his arms like a new bride with her head lolling back. He could have sworn the metal darts were giving off a red light that flashed before dimming into darkness, then glowing again at an eerie and timed pace. But, his attention was called away when Winona suddenly picked her head up and pressed her glistening with sweat forehead into his bicep, and muttered only a single affectionate word.

"_Daddy…_"

The word made Mr. Burke's blood run cold, as he stood there in the open doorway of the balcony with his dead employer at his side and an unconscious young woman draped in his arms with hair as white as snow. He could have said it was the chilly night air, he could have said it was because the man he had worked under for nearly thirty _years_ was dead before he could even bat an eyelash… He could have said it was because he had a young girl bleeding out in his arms.

No.

What made Mr. Burke's blood run colder than the snowy caps of the Mojave mountains?

No one had called him daddy in years.

_Thirty years_, if you wanted to be exact.


	20. CHP 20: Not What I Am, Not What We Are

Butch watched as his mother's hand was getting wrapped up by Old Lady Parker. She had cut it when she dropped her whiskey bottle and tried cleaning it up with her bare hands- she was drunk, _still is,_ and she wasn't thinking clearly.

"She should be fine," The elderly woman spoke as she finished tying up the dressings and looked up to Butch. "Just a deep knick. I sewed it up and bandaged it for you- you might need to change it once every few days, just to be safe. I don't know where the antibiotics are, but I assume James left them in the safe in his office or took them with him when he escaped."

"Dun talk 'bout that- that _peeg _in fron' o' meh!" Ellen croaked, swatting warily at the old woman before tilting off the gurney. Butch caught her by the arm and helped her sit up properly.

Old Lady Parker furrowed her brows together with concern but nodded, giving in to his mother's demand. She shot him a knowing look as she got up and cleaned her hands off by patting the thighs of her jumpsuit.

"Amata is healing nicely and is able to take visitors now, if you'd like to see her." She announced, and some of the people who were occupying the clinic- Christine, Susie, Mr. Brotch (he had joined them a few days ago) and Freddie and his father (they came in this morning because Mr. Gomez had screwed up his bum knee pretty bad and needed it to be looked at)- looked up. "But please, be gentle with her. She's had a very rough time and she's still recovering some."

Butch shifted his eyes to the clinic office door as his mother stumbled off the gurney. Susie's words still echoed in his mind.

"_I found her in the hallway like this!"_

_How did she deserve that?_

_"She said your asshole friend- _**_my brother_**_**-** did this!"_

_How could he do that to her?_

"_So you _**_didn't _**_tell Wally to do this to her?"_

_Butch gave a weary sigh and stared at the shining floor under his scuffed black boots. He pressed his fingers into his eyes, massaging them gently._

_How could Susie think I'd do somethin' as two-faced as __**that?**_

He wanted to talk to Amata… Get the whole story, straighten out the little folds and crumples and crinkles and get it to make as much sense as he could. He suddenly wondered if that fell under Old Lady Palmer's warning- _"But please, be gentle with her."_ He was being gentle, right? What he wanted to ask wasn't _too _much to ask for, right?

Butch felt that the answer wasn't working in his favor.

He looked unto his mother- her eyes filmed over and bloodshot and she swayed on the spot, groaning incoherently, and she looked like the walking dead with how pale she was. He wondered if she had stomached anything that wasn't killing her liver recently.

"C'mon ma, let's getcha back to the apartment. You wanna take a nap, don't you?"

"I ain't _fuckin'_ tired!" She swatted at him, landing a harmless smack to his arm. "I kin gew by my_shelf_ 'ya ungrateful-" She swayed and almost dropped to the floor. He grabbed her arm and led her to the mattress in the corner by Freddie and his father. They moved out of their path.

"Never mind. You can sleep here," She didn't struggle as he plopped her down on the mattress. Before he could say anything else, she was already out like a light. He got up and looked back at Old Lady Palmer.

"I'm gonna head out- see what's what. Keep an eye on her, would 'ya?"

"Old Lady Palmer! _Old Lady Palmer!_" Susie shrieked, running out from the clinic office- and Butch had to assume she was in the midst of visiting Amata. She had been the one that found her, after all. "I think Amata hit her head _really_ hard! She's talking nonsense!"

"Oh dear, she seemed fine when I checked her!" The elderly woman frowned, rushing to the office after the panicked Susie.

"I- I'm _not _talking nonsense… _I'm making __**perfect **__sense…_" Butch heard Amata slur grumpily as the door slid shut.

He couldn't help but wonder what Amata had said that had gotten Susie so flustered. She made it sound like Amata was meant to be thrown into the loony bin or something, with the way she was running around and shrieking.

Only after a few moments, Susie came back out of the office with her face paled significantly and Old Lady Palmer was shaking her head- looking quite pale herself.

"Is Amata alright?" Mr. Gomez asked, taking a hard swallow.

"She's quite alright," Old Lady Palmer nodded and gave a weary sigh. "She was just talking about Winona, is all."

_Winona?_ The name made Butch's ears perk up, his heart stop and his throat catch in his chest- and he snapped his eyes to the elderly woman before him. She must have noticed his prodding glance, because she gave a bit of a knowing smile.

"Winona? I'm not surprised- the girls have been best friends since they were in diapers." Gomez quipped and shook his head, getting up from his spot by his son on the floor with some struggle, due to his knee. "How is she handling all of this?"

"I don't quite know, Herman…" She answered and hung her head. "She seems shaken up- but it might be from the beating she got from that Mack boy more so than Winona's absence."

"The Mack boy beat her? Stevie?"

"No, Wally. Amata had apparently told Susie that Wally did this to her."

"_What?_ I thought that kid was all talk- I didn't think he'd have the _guts_ to do something like that!"

"He said he got reason to." Butch blurted, forcing his hands into his jacket pockets and lolled his head to the side, watching the two adults talk. They both snapped their heads to him.

"What do you mean by _that_, Butch?" Gomez asked. Susie finally sat down in the corner by Christine, rubbing her back in comforting circles, and the two looked up upon hearing Butch's words, now interested in what was going on.

He shrugged his shoulders and walked to the door, only to be stopped by the officer with a stern clap of a hand on his shoulder.

"_**No **__one _should believe that they have a good enough reason to strike a woman let alone pummel them to the point that they can barely _walk!_" He hissed.

"Hands off." Butch shrugged him off with a warning, turning on his heel to stare back at him. "I never said he had a good reason to- I only said that he had a reason. It was probably good enough for him."

Gomez scowled. "What reason would _that _be?"

The whole clinic seemed to slip into eerie silence as everyone held their breaths, waiting for him to answer the question. Butch stepped back on one foot, sliding a hand over his gelled hair in a fidgety mannerism before giving his answer.

"Wally told me Stevie got messed up _real _bad by Winona- said his face pretty much looked like a radroach if you stomp on it enough times."

"Oh dear…" Old Lady Palmer frowned, walking up to Gomez. "He must have thought that with Winona gone, Amata would be a good replacement for his anger towards his brother's injuries."

"I can't _believe _this…" Gomez sighed under his breath, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "This should mean that the Overseer is going to deny his application…"

"A- Application?" Susie squeaked, stopping her soothing rubs on Christine's back and looked up, becoming interested once more- but it looked like worry was showing more on her pale face than interest. "Application for _what?_"

"He sent in an application a few weeks ago- not too long after Winona and James left- to enroll on the Vault's security team. I don't know if his application will even be in_ pending_ because of all the chaos that's going on. There'd be absolutely no time to put him through the training necessary in order to become a part of the team-" He blinked as if he had a sudden realization before his face pulled a _very _long frown. "And that worries me."

"Wait- _back the __**fuck **__up-_" Butch exclaimed angrily. "You actually _telling _me that Wally- that little snot-nosed _bitch- _is _**actually**_ on security now?"

"Not _yet _he's not." Gomez didn't even spare him a wary glance. "As I was saying- I'm worried. Forget what I said about his application never even seeing the light of day in pending, but the Vault is short on guards and has a surplus of trouble with the fires breaking out, the radroach infestation _booming _overnight and- _God forbid-_ soon enough, the Vault might be facing complete and total anarchy. Some of the residents might begin to believe that without enough guards to straighten things out, they are allowed to do whatever it is they wish. In that case, the Overseer could get desperate and hire just about _anyone_ without putting them through training first. Hell- he might even make Andy the Vault's new _doctor_ or something!"

"We don't need a doctor! Old Lady Palmer is doing _just _fine with taking care of us on her own!" Susie exclaimed defensively. "She's taken care of Christine, she's taken care of Amata- she's even taken care of Butch's _mother_ a few times."

Butch bit back his tongue- trying not to say anything defensive for his mother, despite hearing a twinge of acid in Susie's voice upon mentioning his drunkard parent.

"Child, I can't do this on my own." Old Lady Palmer replied with a tired slump of her shoulders. "James was far more educated than I when it came to medicine, and he _still_ had assistance from my grandson, Jonas-_ may his soul rest in peace._ My knowledge is limited, so far I have only come across injuries that I can take care of with some ease and procedure from experience."

"What are you saying, Lucy?" Gomez asked worriedly.

"What I'm saying is, the injuries people have come to me with I have been able to treat by _pure _luck. I have a feeling that very soon, I will be given someone that I can't fix. Stimpaks do most of the work for me, but if the person is not treated properly in the first place, the Stimpak will not be able to reach its full potential. For example, Amata- _the poor dear-_ had her arm broken by Wally. If I had no knowledge of resetting the bone before injecting her with the Stimpak, she would have improperly healed. The bone would possibly still be sticking out of her skin for all I know!"

"What's gonna happen if someone comes to you and you can't help them?" Christine asked fearfully. "Are they gonna die?"

"It depends on the injuries… I can't fix everything." She frowned. "If I'm not able to help them, it could be a numerous amount of things- the injury could get worse, it could become infected, and yes, if could become fatal over time… Let's be thankful that nothing _too _bad has come along yet, and pray that nothing too bad will _ever _come our way, even though Amata and Christine's injuries were quite bad."

Freddie lifted his head, looking to Christine and noted that her burned hands were wrapped up.

"What-… What happened to your hands?"

She bit down on her lip, to the point where it was bone white, before breaking down into sobs, crying into her circled arms around her knees- hugging them to her chest. Susie hugged her gently, shooting Freddie a scalding glare.

"Wha- What? What'd I say?" He exclaimed with wide eyes of confusion, pressing himself into the wall as if he could sink back into it.

Butch rolled his own eyes, looking out into the hallway to see Dolly making her way to the clinic, apparently humming a nasally tune to herself happily. He suddenly felt torn between standing there like an idiot or hiding in the corner where Freddie was currently cowering from Susie's wrathful glare, but Dolly didn't give him enough time to do the latter so like an idiot he stood as she strolled in contentedly, a toothpick jut out between her smiling lips.

"I'd figure you'd be in here, baby!" She exclaimed, smile turning to a grin and she pulled the toothpick from her mouth, pouting playfully. "Were you hiding from me?"

"'Ya know, I was. Found a little cozy room to kick back in… But there was something about it that bothered me." He snarled, but she didn't seem to catch on. Thinking he was joking, she went along with it.

"Oh really, Butchie?" She chortled, grabbing his hand and intertwining his fingers into hers. "What was that? The fact that I wasn't there?"

"I was hiding from you for a fuckin' _reason-_ so I _wouldn't _have to be around you." Realization seemed to hit Dolly in the face like a shovel once she realized he _wasn't _joking. "It was the writing on the walls… Things like "freak," and "I hope you die…" 'N you know what _else _I saw on the walls?"

Butch pulled his hand back from hers, snarling like a rabid dog and pointed at her accusingly.

"_Penny whore._"

"Butch!" Old Lady Palmer cried with shock. "That's no way to treat a lady!"

"I'm not callin' _her _that!" He yelled, spinning on his heel to glare at the old woman who decided it was her right to intervene, still pointing at Dolly. "That's what _she _called Winona! She wrote it on her bedroom wall in grease!"

"What were you doing in Winona's room? What were you even doing in here _apartment?_" Susie asked with a quizzical look passing over her face.

Butch froze, eyes blinking and jaw tight as he tried to come up with an answer.

"I thought you hated her!" She cried accusingly.

"_I thought you hated her!"_

…_Should I hate her?_ He wondered, staring back at Susie with his jaw tightening even more so under his skin. But what did Winona ever do to make him hate her?

_She fucked up everything in the Vault._

No- that wasn't right. It was her father. Her _father _fucked up everything in the Vault, she just followed him to the outside.

_She messed up Stevie's face._

_That _she was certainly accountable for. What even _happened _that caused her to give such a brutal assault? Well, _that _was certainly a tupid question. Stevie has and will _always _be a sadistic sonofabitch. What would have happened if she hadn't run into him? Would Wally not be so angry? Would he have not left the Tunnel Snakes? Would he _not _have beaten Amata into a bloody pulp that Butch barely recognized when she was dragged through the clinic door?

_I hate her 'cause she's like that one guy that invented the light bulb- that Einstein guy._

That was true- whenever he saw one of her inventions buzzing about in the hallways when she was still here, that weirdo bug thing, and the night when she showed him blueprints for _another _invention she wanted to make, he was always so astounded… And jealous. He remembered her pudding catapult, Andy's saw sharpener, that thingamabob that would brush her teeth and hair at the same time, the "super pencil" she made when they were kids, and how it went hay-wire during a History test- splattering ink into her face and launching her eraser across Brotch's desk so it hit him in the eye... It was the funniest fucking thing he _ever _did see. Only then he wasn't jealous- only when her inventions didn't work was he not jealous of her. But he was still quite astounded.

_I hate her 'cause she smells nice-_

She always smelled like lavenders.

_And she always knew what I was up to before it even happened-_

He was sometimes thankful that she ended up stopping him before the shit hit the fan.

_Because she saved my 'ma when I was a dick to her all while we were growing up-_

And it proved that she was a better person than he could ever be; she was everything he _wished _he could be…

_Because she broke my hand at her 10__th__ birthday party-_

Her father was so proud of her… It reminded him of how much of an ass he was.

_Because she __**made me**__ like her-_

She made him think she was beautiful; she made him think that the Vault wasn't so damned bad back then. Well, it sure was shitty now, and he didn't know if he wanted to say that it was because he would never see her or her weirdo contraptions again, or just because the Vault seemed to cold and fragile now... He was almost afraid to even _think _about it.

_Because she has a father, and I don't-_

Would his father have loved him like her father loved her, if he were still alive?

_Because she was the only one who didn't really look down on me like I was a greasy little radroach-_

He still never knew why she didn't sneer at him or scowl whenever he was around like everybody else did… But then again, she never showed much emotion at all, despite the little weird smirks she gave when she knew he was up to no good.

_Because! Because. __**Because...**_

…_Because I __**want **__to hate her…_

"Well, I-… uh…" Butch finally found his voice after some time of contemplating, finding it to be hoarse and papery sounding, and suddenly began to worry that the length of his thought process made everyone suspicious of the reason why he was indeed in Winona's apartment. He fidgeted under Susie's prodding stare, glancing away from her to find that everyone _else _was staring at him with the same look as she.

"I was in there, too…" Freddie pointed out, and everyone looked to him as he got up from the floor. He was frowning. "I didn't like the words people put on there- up on her walls. She's not a terrible person! If only they saw her how- how _I _see her… Then they'd understand… She didn't have a choice! She _had _to leave, or the Overseer would have killed her!"

Gomez sighed at his son, running a weary hand over his face. "Freddie, we talked about this…"

"No, dad!" He cried, stepping up to his father. "I know you don't like it, but I can't help liking her! Growing up, she was the _only _one that was there for me! She was the only one who helped me, and hung out with me, and- and-"

"_Hah!_ You actually _like _that freak?" Dolly snorted, catching everyone's attention as she laughed and laughed- it reminded Butch of a radroaches chitter, _right_ before they pounced on you. "Well, I guess freaks of a feather flock together."

"Says the Cake-Face hussy and her Leather Boy-Wonder…"

"_What _was that?" She narrowed her eyes dangerously, darting them over to Susie. Butch actually smiled at the remark. It wasn't the _worst _thing he was called...

"Nothing," She smiled innocently, still rubbing Christine's back. She had calmed herself to choked hiccups as she stared down at her burned hands. "_Nothing at __**all.**_"

"That's what I _thought _you blonde bimbo!" She sneered.

"Girls, fighting isn't going to get us anywhere," Old Lady Palmer scolded them and shook her head. "The Vault is in dire trouble and you two are bickering like children! Now isn't the time to be fighting!"

"Lucy's right." Gomez nodded, looking back and forth between the girls with his son at his side. "Right now, the best thing we can do is stick together and hope that the worst is over and done with and that we've already ridden out the eye of the storm."

"_That's what I was __**trying **__to say…_" Called a weary, dry as paper voice.

Everyone looked up in astonishment to see Amata lingering in the doorway of the clinic office, swaying on the spot as she grabbed for the doorway to keep her balance. Her bad arm was up in a sling, the dark purple rings around her eyes were not as noticeable as before but now she just looked really tired, and one was still a little agitated and swollen. She was pale, dry lips adorned with thin cracks and chips, her hair a stringy mess in her face and she was in a Vault jumpsuit that was too baggy for her. Old Lady Palmer shredded up the one she was wearing when Susie dragged her in, and the best they could scavenge from the rooms was in men's sizing. It hung from her hips and thighs strangely, the arms pulled from her shoulders to tie around her waist like a makeshift belt and she wore an off-white undershirt. Butch could make out a black bra strap slipping down the arm that wasn't in a sling. Light bruises and scrapes pecked her wherever skin could be shown- on her collarbone, shoulders, arms- even one on the corner of her jaw, below her cheek. She looked like she had rolled down a thorny hill, or something- or took a header down a flight of stairs. At least it looked somewhat better than the condition she was in when Old Lady Palmer was tending to her…

"A- Amata! You shouldn't be up and walking about!" Old Lady Palmer frowned, leading her to a nearby gurney so she could rest.

"You-… You and Susie, you two wouldn't listen to me…" Her head hung low as she was forced to sit, although it didn't take much effort to get her down. She collapsed onto it before Old Lady Palmer could even try to talk her into resting.

"It's because you weren't making any _sense!_" Susie cried, getting up from her spot by Christine to walk to the gurney with her hands rolled into fists on her hips, as if she were a scolding mother. "There is nothing _out _there! Winona's probably dead as we speak!"

"_You take that back!_" Butch hollered before he could stop himself, causing her to spin on her heel and gawk at him with wide fearful eyes. Amata lolled her head up, staring at him with shock as best as her swollen eye would allow her.

"Wha- What _for?_" She finally asked, swallowing hard. "I'm only telling the truth. Old Lady Palmer told us about all the stuff that's out there- the monsters, the crazy people!... Butch you _know _she's probably dead! She's a brainiac, and brainiacs don't know a gun from a sharp stick."

"And how the hell would _you _know that for sure?" He exclaimed, gesturing to himself with a hooked thumb. "I've seen some of the stuff she's made- she's smart. She _ain't _dead. She'll know how to take care of herself! I_ know _that she's alive!"

"I agree with Butch," Freddie piped up, much to his father's disapproval. "She's strong- if she wasn't, she wouldn't have been able to get out of here now _would _she?"

"Well _she's _the reason why the Vault's like this now, am I right?" Susie exclaimed angrily, throwing her hands up in the air. "I can understand why _Freddie's _defending her- but _you _Butch? Seriously, I thought you hated her!"

"She just annoyed the fuck out of me is all," He answered, looking away. "It's different now."

"How the _hell _is it different now?"

"Because she's gone, the Vault is a disaster and we're not going to last long down here. It's not just Mr. Brotch's lessons anymore. It's not just burgers and shakes in the cafeteria. It's _not _just having fun and being teenagers anymore." Amata spoke up above their arguing, causing them to go into silence but they continued glaring each other down. "And Susie, you couldn't be any _more _wrong. It wasn't her Vault, and no, it wasn't Dr. Parker's fault either."

Her statement caused everyone's heads to snap up to her- even Dolly, who seemed completely uninterested up until this point as she inspected a fingernail, picking away underneath it with the untouched end of her toothpick.

"I didn't really notice until now, or-… Or maybe I did… And I didn't want to think it was going to happen because I've grown up in the Vault, as have we all," She cleared her throat as pained tears came to her big blue- and one swollen- eyes. "But our home has been in trouble for some time now, maybe even longer than we've been alive… We were just too young to notice, or understand for that matter."

She looked over to Old Lady Palmer. "When I woke up, you told me stories about your daughter's adventures in the outside world- up there. I honestly didn't believe you at first because I didn't know what to think of it, but somehow… It just made sense. Like all these pieces fit into a puzzle I didn't even know was on my kitchen table, you know?"

Then she looked back to everyone else. "Thinking about it, the Vault has been opened a few times but we haven't let anyone _in._ We've only decreased in numbers, and if you want to pick at it- well… We're the product of generations of inbreeding." She wrinkled her nose. "For all _I _know, Butch could be my distant cousin or something…"

Butch said nothing, deciding it was not the time nor the place to say something snarky and let Amata continue.

"We're going to run out of food. We're going to run out of water. We're going to run out of _time _if we don't bother to try and fix the bigger problem that's going on here! We're going to die out if we don't _expand! _I don't know if there's clean edibles up there, but-"

"_Wait a minute!_" Dolly exclaimed in a whiney voice, stepping up to Butch's side with her arms folded over her chest as she stared at Amata disapprovingly. "You're saying you wanna go _outside_ 'n round up a few matchmakers just to get some variety up in this hell hole? You wanna go _outside _where there are all those crazy fucks running around? _You just wanna go __**outside?**_"

"When _you _have a better idea than what she's got Horowitz, then we'll let you bitch _all '_ya want," Susie snapped. "But you don't have an idea _at all_, so shut the hell up and let Amata talk! I think she's got something here."

"Amata, it's _dangerous_ out there… Nothing that a child should be exposed to," Old Lady Palmer argued.

"But we are _not _children. We're all adults now," She stated, and finding some strength, pushed herself off from the gurney and stood up without swaying. "If _Winona _could do it, why can't we? Why can't we go outside too? Why can't we _explore _instead of staying here to repeat the same cycle over and _over _again like our ancestors before us?" She looked to Christine, Susie, and even Dolly. "I don't know about _you _girls, but I don't wanna be a baby-maker for the rest of my life knowing that my kids are going to live up to nothing more than reproducing just to see how far we can go before our numbers dwindle from inbreeding."

Susie grinned from ear to ear. "Going topside? I'm game for that." She shook her head. "I don't wanna be stuck down _here _for the rest of my life, staring at the same faces, working the same old _boring _job every freaking day… I don't want to feel like I'm obligated to do nothing but screw and have babies!" She shuddered, as if realizing that there was not much for her to choose from between Butch and Freddie, now that Paul was gone and the only other teenage boy in the Vault was her own brother, Wally. "I think you've got the right idea, Amata."

"You're wrong, Mack." Butch piped up, running a swift hand through his hair as the teenagers glanced up to him with interest. Old Lady Palmer and Gomez retired to the corner where his still unconscious mother laid on a dingy mattress, snoring away. They seemed to be deeply engrossed in a conversation amongst themselves.

"What do you mean I'm wrong? You don't think Amata's plan is a good idea? Out of everyone here, I would have thought that you'd _like _to leave and go outside!"

"That's not what I meant," He shook his head, glancing out the clinic doors as if he were staring down the Vault 101 giant front door. "I meant that it was Winona and her pops that had the right idea of getting out of this fucking rat cage…"

As silence fell upon the clinic- so quiet that you could drop a pin and it'd probably sound as loud as a million sparking reactors- Gomez and Old Lady Palmer stopped talking quietly amongst themselves, the young adults stared back and forth at one another as if it were a game of tag with your eyes instead of with your stamina, and it was obvious that everyone agreed upon the basics that Amata had brought up in her speech.

_Winona had the right idea- and we're gonna take it. We're gonna take it and follow her outta here._


	21. CHP 21: My Little Elizabeta

**A/N: WHAT'S UP EVERYBODY? I won' be talking for long :D Just to tell you guys that I was thinking about changing the day that I post chapters. I post them every Tuesday, but I realize that it might take a while for you guys to settle down so you can read them, considering it's a school day so you're at school for some of the day, then you come home and- if you're not ANYTHING like me- you do your homework C:! So, I was planning on changing the date to sometime over the weekend- either Saturday or Sunday, because I thought it'd be a little more convieniant for you guys!**

**Let me know what you think about he change ;D**

**Oh, also- ever heard of ? It's the sister website to where you can post original works. I made an account recently, and posted my first entry (a poem!) So go ahead and check it out! PLEASH? D:**

**My username is TheFloridaKeyz *HEHE Left4Dead...***

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>She opened her eyes a crack, her lids so heavy they felt weighed down by leaden sleep. Maybe just a few more minutes- <em>just a few more minutes, dad… Then I'll get up and go to my lessons with Stanley…<em>

Winona snapped up with a jolt, gripping the bed sheets that covered her and panted in a panic, syncing with the beat of her racing heart. _Where am I? How did I fall __**asleep?**__ Wasn't I at Tenpenny Tower with Mr. Burke and Mr. Tenpenny?..._ She looked down at her trembling hand, dry skin and cracked fingernails, and held her head in her hands.

"Was I- was that all a-… _a dream?_"

"Far from it, my dear."

She craned her neck, looking up to find Mr. Burke sitting in a red cushion chair at her side. He was sitting so close to her, his knees bumped the edge of the bed she was laying in. His glasses and fedora were on the round table by her bed, his tie loosened, suit jacket hung over the back of his chair. His legs were crossed, one over the other with a book in his lap. His elbow was on the arm of the chair, his knuckles rolled and pressed into his cheek lazily. He stared at her with calculating, almost melancholy eyes. It might just have been the lighting… The whole room was dark, save for a dim lantern on the table next to his hat and glasses.

Winona wondered if it was the lighting that had so suddenly seemed to age him by a decade or two. She could make out bags under his eyes, crow's feet framing them and a few deep creases around his mouth and nose- as if he had spent the last few years doing nothing but frowning.

"M- Mr. Burke…" She murmured, gripping the bed sheets tighter, or as tight as she could manage, in her weak fists.

"You made _quite _the spectacle of yourself, Winona." He marked his place in his book by folding the corner of the page and shut it slowly, resounding in an empty thud throughout the wide room.

She kept quiet, looking away to gaze down at herself. With wide, curious eyes, she thumbed the cloth she was wearing. It wasn't her Vault suit… The only thing she's worn since she left Vault 101. It probably smelled by now, and was covered in blood, sweat, and dirt.

"Is… Is this-?..."

"A dress." He nodded, confirming her unfinished question, and put the book on the table next to the lantern. He turned it up a little, illuminating the room a bit more. She realized she was sitting up in a wide, spacious bed, and the room was a lot bigger than she thought it was.

Winona continued thumbing at the lavender dress. It had a square neckline and airy sleeves. What did the rest of the dress look like under the covers?

"I had one of the tower's servants dress you after you went unconscious. I didn't want you getting blood on my clean sheets, and I did not think you'd appreciate _me _undressing you."

"…Why?" She asked quietly, tilting her head down and stared at him from the corner of her eyes. "I- I killed your boss… Your employer. I don't know much about bad guys, but aren't you supposed to like- _kill _me, or something, in revenge for Mr. Tenpenny?"

Mr. Burke smirked, as if she had said something amusing. She probably did.

"In order for me to feel the want, or the need, to exact my revenge upon you for Tenpenny, I would have had to _like _the man, now wouldn't I?" Her eyes widened in shock at him. "I never felt such a thing towards him."

"B- But… He's your employer!"

"Was, Winona." He corrected her. "But just because he was my employer, does not mean that I liked him."

Winona was, at this point, _severely _confused. What was she supposed to say to that? The man before her did the work for a much _eviler _man than himself, but he felt no positive connection to him?

"Would you like something to eat?" He asked, pushing back his chair and stood up. "I can order something from the Café downstairs, if you'd like. Does anything catch your hunger?"

"Al- Alright…" She stammered, rubbing her arm awkwardly and stared back down at the bed to avoid his eyes. Why was he looking at her like that? With such sad, _sad _eyes? Such helpless, desperate eyes? He no longer looked like a wolf. He looked like something a wolf would tear apart for sustenance.

"I'll run downstairs and get you a menu. Pick whatever you like, and I'll set up the dining table so you may eat in peace." He leaned over to grab his hat from the table, and she grabbed his hand by the wrist softly.

"C- Could you-… eat with me?" She looked up at him, tensing when she realized his eyes had begun to glint. _It's the lighting,_ she told herself. "I-… I don't want to eat by myself."

Mr. Burke observed her for a few moments before slowly nodding once. He continued to grab his hat as her hand slipped away, plucked up his glasses and slid them on, plopping his fedora on his head, and made his way to the door.

"That's not the only reason, is it, that you would like me to dine with you?" He asked, stopping at the door once he had his hand on the knob. He looked back at her, his glasses a glint in the darkness. "You wish to ask me questions?"

Winona said nothing, looking at him through her parted bangs. She touched the top of her head, finding a plastic headband perched there. He had her hair done as well? She ran her fingers through her silken strands of silver. Yes, someone washed her hair. It was no longer thick with dirt and oil, and it smelled a little nice. There were no more snarls in it, either… He was really pampering her.

"Oh come now, you wake up in Tenpenny tower in clean clothing and a warm bed, me of _all _people offering you food- attitude that is unexpected after just killing the owner of this building, which also happened to be my employer." He had a point there. "You're not even in the _slightest _bit curious?"

"…Why would I be curious as to why I'm being treated so nicely?" She answered, dropping her hand back into her lap. "After all, you said you didn't like him. Isn't this your way of thanking me?"

He said nothing as he pulled the door open, still staring at her. A sliver of light reached the foot of the bed she occupied as he left, its intensity almost blinding her. She heard faint music coming from outside, muffled as the door shut again and she was once more cascaded in dim lighting from the lantern at her side.

Winona pushed back the covers, looking to the rest of the dress that spread down her legs. It reached a little bit above her knees, and there was black ribbon on the waist, below her breasts. She wore sheer white stockings, but underneath the stretchy cloth you could see the slight bulge of bandages around the fleshy part of her calf, all the way to the ankle. She touched it lightly, wincing at how tender it was. She closed her eyes, flopping back on the bed to stare at the ceiling.

She shot herself and killed a man, all in a matter of minutes.

* * *

><p>Mr. Burke stood outside of his room, back pressed to the door with his hand still clutching the doorknob. His heart was throwing itself against his ribcage, and he placed his rolled fist over it, <em>begging <em>it to stop. Years of training himself to keep on a stern poker face, and this- this _child _comes along and tears off his mask and breaks down his walls with a hammer and lets herself in. He had never felt so helpless in his life.

"_After all, you said you didn't like him. Isn't this your way of thanking me?"_

_I had my own plans for him, Winona… Plans that you managed to tear apart in only a matter of minutes._

He lolled his head back, training his eyes on the light fixture above his door and dropped his hand back to his side.

_But I feel nothing bitter towards you… I would be a liar if I didn't say that this made me-… __**happy. **__Happier than I've been in a long time. _He closed his eyes. _It's almost like the cosmos are working against me. It almost feels like Allistair was doomed the moment I laid eyes on you when you entered that putrid bar in Megaton, and I knew that you were the one. I __**knew **__you were the one to help me…_

"Ah, Mr. Burke!" He snapped his head down to see Susan Lancaster standing before him, hands on her hips, shooting him a cocky smirk with an eyebrow raised. "I didn't know you were back at Tenpenny!"

"I arrived late this morning," He cleared his throat, pushing away thoughts of Winona's luminous lavender eyes staring up at him, reflecting his face in the dim lighting.

"_C- Could you-… eat with me?"_

"Oh?" Her smirk turned into a smile. "Well _someone _should have told me!" She walked over and gripped his arm. "We _must _get together and-… _converse _over coffee one of these days! You seem out of sorts!"

He politely shrugged her off, making his way to the elevator. "I simply do not have the time. I'm quite the busy man, Miss Lancaster."

"Have you replaced me, Burke?" He could hear the pout in her voice. "She's quite lovely, actually. Throw her in a bathtub, give her a good scrub and slap some polish and her and she would _actually _look like a lady."

Mr. Burke smirked, looking at the vehement woman over his shoulder.

"I thought you said you didn't know I had returned?" The only time he had been through Tenpenny Tower with Winona was when he walked through the lobby to the elevator to take her up to Allistair. He saw Susan talking with Hawthorne outside of the Federalist's Lounge, even though she didn't turn her head to look back at him, and he was positive she was nowhere in sight when he brought Winona back to his room to be taken care of.

Susan Lancaster had been trying to jump his bones for a few years now- probably because he always refused her advances when every other man dropped down on their knees when she walked by. He was too old to be chasing women anymore, even if she _had _caught his attention.

"I must be off, Miss Lancaster," He spoke when she didn't reply, instead the smile on her face dimming a fraction as he waved her off dismissively, making his way to the elevator. "Today is Wednesday, is it not? Give Doctor Banfield my regards."

As Mr. Burke stepped onto the elevator and turned to press the button for the lobby floor, he looked back at her with his hands folded behind his back. The doors slid shut as she opened her mouth to speak, cutting her off from him. Only when the elevator began to safely lower did he cower back in the corner, yanking off his glasses to put his face into his hand, stifling a shaky huff of despair.

Winona's lavender eyes flashed into his mind again- blinking, reflecting his saddened face in the dim light of his room.

"E- _Elizabeta…_" He groaned, knees buckling out from under him as he collapsed to the ground.

* * *

><p>Winona picked off the fried meat from the charred stick with her fingers, dripping with salty juices, and slid it past her lips. She licked the access off her fingertips before pulling off another piece, repeating the process. She had ordered roasted squirrel on a stick, Insta-Mash, and purified water for dinner- and the lady that ran the Café downstairs was nice enough to throw in a box of Fancy Lads Cake Snacks for dessert for free- one for her, and one for Mr. Burke. She assumed it was because the Café lady may have been sweet on Mr. Burke, or was probably nervous in his presence- like she had been when she had gone to his house in Megaton.<p>

She had eaten in silence, munching softly and sipping quietly while Mr. Burke, who sat across from her at the table and chairs he pulled out, sipped at his mug quietly, once in a while chewing slowly on one of the snack cakes. He ordered nothing but instant coffee, claiming he wasn't hungry, but the little dessert cake was gone within moments and he wiped the flaking icing onto his napkin.

"Are you positive you have no questions for me?" He asked once his mouth was free of any bits of food.

Winona looked up to him and nodded, before stopping herself, and shook her head. She swallowed what was in her own mouth before speaking.

"I _do _have a few questions for you, but I don't feel that it's my place to ask them…"

"Oh? Is that so?"

She nodded, putting the charred stick down on her plate and sucked the rest of the juices from her fingers till they were clean before wiping them on her napkin as well.

"Despite that, feel free to ask them. If we were afraid to ask questions, then what other way will we have to find the answers?"

"By searching for them…" She mumbled.

"But you feel like it's not your place to do that either, correct?" He smirked, and she nodded. "Ask anyhow."

"Why- Why did you work for Mr. Tenpenny if you _didn't _like him?" She scratched her head curiously. "I don't understand…"

"Quit from being his right-hand man and give all of _this _up? The luxurious apartment, the respect, the money? Honestly, Winona- did you not think about an answer to that?"

She went back to eating, only speaking when there was no more food in her mouth.

"You're lying."

"I beg your pardon?" Mr. Burke snapped his eyes up to her.

"You're lying to me…" Winona repeated, taking a quick sip from her bottle of water.

"And how do _you _know if I'm lying to you when my answer is valid?"

"But it isn't valid."

"Again, I ask, how do you know that?"

"Because it's not a valid answer for _you._" She answered matter-of-factly. Mr. Burke suddenly seemed to be on the edge of her seat, blinking at her with wide eyes and his lips pulled into a tight line, as if he couldn't decide to flee or sit there and continue the conversation.

"…Is that what you think?" He murmured.

She nodded. "It's something else… I can see it in your eyes." He glanced away, as if the wall had become more interesting. "When I woke up, you were looking at me funny- ever since we met, you always looked at me or talked to me with this… Sophisticated air about you. This sort of intimidation mechanism."

He smiled a little and chuckled. "An _intimidation _mechanism?"

"Yes, it's a mechanism." She frowned slightly. "People do it when they don't want anyone getting close."

Mr. Burke stopped smiling and chuckling, bringing his eyes back to her.

"But when I woke up, you didn't look at me like that anymore. You still aren't." He darted his eyes away from her once she mentioned it, as if it would hide what he felt completely. "You keep looking at me with these sad eyes… Like you've lost something you really cared about."

He tried to shoot her a dangerous warning with his cold, sharp eyes- as if trying to tell her that she was treading on dangerous territory. All she did was smile as she put her napkin on her plate, signaling that she was full.

"I may have been a Pip-Boy Programmer back in the Vault so I didn't socialize much, but I know pain when I see it." She got up, grabbing the crutch leaning against the table to use for support due to her bum leg. "I'm not saying that you have to tell me anything. I don't understand why you would want to in the first place-"

"If you tell me how you murdered Allistair," His murmuring voice stopped her. "Then I will tell you. I am in debt to you, after all."

"How is that?" She blinked, confused.

"Sit down and tell me what I want to know," He motioned to her chair across the table. "And I will explain myself."

"A- Alright…" She sat down compliantly, propping her crutch against the table once more. "Want me to give you the shortened version, or the specifics?"

"Everything," He replied, interlacing his hands on his lap and leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "I want to know _everything._"

"Back in the Vault where I came from, we had a lot of radroaches. Sometimes I'd be wondering the hallway and one would jump at me, and I wouldn't have anyway of defending myself…" She held up her arm with the Pip-Boy on it, pressing a switch on the side of the little machine so a hatch opened up at the top. "Using some parts I scrounged up while I worked as a Pip-Boy Programmer, and with some help from my mentor, I built- well… What you saw, if you _did _see it."

"I saw darts come from your wrist device, yes." Mr. Burke nodded, recalling how they jut out from Tenpenny's chest, bobbing as he laughed at Winona's attempt to kill him.

"In each Pip-Boy is a main battery- _a core battery_," She tapped the glowing screen on hers. "I built- hell, what do you call it?... A sort of wireless communicator between the battery of my Pip-Boy and the darts that you saw. Each dart is specially crafted with the communicators in them, so they will work on nothing else… Well, not unless you remove the communicator that dispatches the signal to the darts and place them in another Pip-Boy…"

"I still don't understand what the purpose of your invention is,"

"It's simple. An easy to use, homemade Taser. Bringing up the radroaches I mentioned earlier, I tested some earlier prototypes of my invention on them to see how I could make them better. This is actually the second prototype I've made… The first one had wires attached. But the problem is, it's still- um… _defective._"

"How so?"

"Well, the reason why the communicators are hooked up to my Pip-Boy's core battery and installed in these darts is because when the battery emits a surge of energy, it travels to the receiving end of the communicator in the darts and sends a shock through whatever the darts are stuck in." She furrowed her brows together, frowning slightly. "In all honesty, Mr. Burke, I had no intention of killing your employer- I simply wanted to incapacitate him… The shock isn't really enough to kill someone, just enough to shock them into paralysis or temporary unconsciousness or something- but, given the fact that the darts landed on his chest and he was quite old, it probably became enough to kill him."

"And where does your invention become defective?"

"How I get the surge of energy needed in order to make it work…" She frowned even more so. "You see, the only way the core gives off this surge is when I seem to have a serious injury. The surge goes through the device, the screen lights up, it makes noises, all that fancy stuff to alert me that I need to seek medical attention as soon as _possible_. So the only way I am able to actually put my invention to _use-_"

"Is by inflicting self-harm." He realized, marveling at her invention.

"Well, more like practically killing _my__**self **_in the process…" She nodded, rubbing the back of her head. "But essentially, yes. Hence shooting myself in the leg…"

"Why not shoot _him?_"

"I didn't want to _kill _him!"

He laughed and shook his head. "I'm certain a bullet to the leg or the foot or even the _arm _would have incapacitated him just fine _without _killing him."

"It still could have given him time to recover and shoot me back…" She argued, although it wasn't that effective and looked away with a scarlet blush of embarrassment on her cheeks and across her nose. "The next prototype I want to make will trick the Pip-Boy in sending off the signal without having to hurt myself."

"Aren't there any other ways you can send this power surge?"

"I tried using my flashlight as a sort of power source," Winona replied with a smile. "The problem was, the battery didn't give off enough energy to even produce a little sizzle when the light was turned on. The most you'd probably feel in that case is a little pinch, or even a slight tickle at most for some people."

Mr. Burke nodded, leaning forward in his chair. "I see… Is that all?"

"I've pretty much told you everything there is to it," She nodded. "So why do you feel like you're in debt to me?"

"Because for thirty years I worked for that bastard and I was never able to force my own hand…" He took off his glasses, placing it on the table next to his fedora. "Thirty _years,_ my dear Winona… And not once."

"Wait- so you were _planning _on killing him?" Her eyes widened in shock. "And I just beat you to it?"

"I wanted to do more than that…" He folded his arms over his chest, darting his eyes away. "I wanted to make him _suffer…_ Strip away everything he had and make it disappear. Gone forever."

"M- Mr. Burke?..." Winona squeaked, and he turned his eyes back to her. She was gazing back at him sadly, brows crinkled together slightly with her mouth a thin line of a frown. "…He took something from you, didn't he? He took something away- something you cared about very much..."

"Not something, some_one,_ Winona…" He rubbed his tired eyes and gave a weak sigh.

"What did he _do _to you, Mr. Burke?..." She whispered, frowning even more.

"…He took my daughter away from me." Mr. Burke turned his eyes up to her, slumping back in his chair, face turning stone-solid and untellable when it came to emotion, but Winona could see the anger and the loss in his eyes.

"You- had a _daughter?_"

"I most certainly did," He nodded. "I'm 56, Winona… Turning 57 in about two months."

Her jaw dropped into her lap. "No _**way…**_"

He smiled sadly. "You had no clue?"

"Not even an _inkling!_" She cried. "You look like you could be in your late twenties! Maybe even in your early thirties at the most! Oh my God, even my _father _is younger than you!... No offense."

Mr. Burke laughed and shook his head. "None taken, and I'm flattered. I look younger than I am, but I feel older than I should… I've faced many hardships under Allistair's employment."

Winona frowned again. "What did he do to your daughter, Mr. Burke?..."

"Many years ago, when I was about your age, I married a beautiful young woman and settled down with her in Megaton. Her name was Lilith, and I thought her beauty was blinding… She was compassionate, kind, and quite intelligent."

She smiled, putting her elbows on the table and cupped her jaw in her hands. He sounded like her father when he spoke about her mother.

He sighed. "But, sadly, as smart as she was she fell victim to the hogwash those _followers _throw upon Megaton's citizens- _the people from the Church of Atom._ She visited them daily, and it was the cause for many of our fights. When we discovered that she was pregnant, I forbade her from visiting them or drinking from the crater any longer… I didn't want all that radiation killing our child, and I forced her to purge herself of the radiation she had already received."

"So what happened?"

"Well, in the end Confessor Cromwell got the best of her- telling her that if she were to conceive in the arms of Atom, at their church, she'd give birth to a deity of Atom or some such nonsense as that… I was out scavenging in the nearby town at the time this happened, so I was unable to talk her out of it, and she had gone into labor almost half of a day before I had returned. I came back just before she delivered, _infuriated _that those- those _neophytes _tried to jeopardize my child's future all for a bunch of bullshit about a being that only exists in their minds… But it was too late. We couldn't bring her from the church and into a safe environment, so she had to deliver there."

Winona offered a sympathetic look, stretching a hand across the table to lightly touch his. He didn't pull back, but he didn't reciprocate it either. She didn't expect him to.

"Our baby- _our __**daughter-**_ she seemed… fine. Ten fingers, ten toes, no deformities whatsoever and she acted like a normal baby would… She cried in my arms and flailed her limbs. But my wife, my _poor _Lileth… She had been exposed to the radiation for too long, and she died within minutes of our daughter being born. She never even got the chance to _hold _her… All I remember is screaming as I placed my little girl on her mother's breast and _pounced _on Confessor Cromwell… I remember beating him senseless for killing my wife with his Church of Atom bullshit. I snapped his arm in half, broke his nose, and dislocated his jaw. Mr. Simms hauled me away, but upon seeing the scene, he put me under house arrest so I would be able to care for my motherless child… Confessor Cromwell only received a _fine._ He paid 150 caps! One-hundred and _fifty __**caps…**_ The money went to me, and it meant nothing. It wasn't going to return my wife or my daughter's mother. It couldn't replace the light that was stolen from us…"

"What happened to your daughter?"

"I named her Elizabeta… That was what Lilith wanted to name her. I had the town doctor at the time, Doctor Wesley, come to my home while I was under house arrest to have Elizabeta checked out. Wesley said her body contained _ungodly _amounts of radiation, but- but she wasn't _dying._ She was acting like any normal baby- happy and healthy, albeit she had more screaming and crying fits than usual… Wesley hadn't seen anything like it before. When I asked her if there was anything she could do- RadAway or _something- _she said no. She said the chemicals would most definitely kill Elizabeta because her tiny body is unable to handle it. Wesley _also _said that Elizabeta would probably die soon from the radiation, anyhow…"

"That- That's _horrible…_"

"Horrible- but true. So I did what I could, treating Elizabeta like I treated her mother… Like a princess. Like _royalty _until that inevitable day came_. _Doctor Wesley came to check up on us regularly, running tests… She even had a colleague come in. A ghoul named Dr. Barrows from Underworld."

She blinked in realization. "A _ghoul?_ Like- Like Gob, at Moriarty's?"

He nodded. "Barrows specialized in cracking the code behind ghoulification. At the time, he was running tests and experiments on how to reverse its effects so ghouls could be human again- Wesley figured that since he spent all of his ghoulish life trying to find a cure, he'd know all about radiation and its effects… But he hadn't seen anything like Elizabeta's case, either."

Mr. Burke leaned forward in his chair, elbow on the table with his forehead pressed into his palm. His other hand was still outstretched, caressed by Winona's own.

"Elizbeta was one year old when her skin began to peel and flake off…"

Winona stifled a gasp, pulling back her hand from his in surprise. He glanced up at her, not at all surprised by her reaction.

"My little girl was… She was turning into a ghoul, and I didn't know what to do. The radiation only made her stronger- healing any cuts or scrapes she had gotten that a kiss from her father couldn't fix…" He closed his eyes. "A few years had passed. She was two when she lost her nose, three when she lost bother ears… Most of her hair fell out in dead strands, and whatever remained turned from black like Lilith's to the color of dead grass. But my little girl didn't mind…" He smiled sadly. "B- Because her daddy made her feel beautiful…"

She was shocked to hear the stammer in his voice, the sorrow that lingered there that you couldn't deny. She reached out and grabbed his hand, again shocked when he wrapped his fingers around her palm.

"When she was about five or six, she demanded to go scavenging with me- stubborn like her mother, I tell you… I only allowed her to come when I knew the place was safe, and the men we traveled with could be trusted. But even then she knew how to handle herself." He chuckled quietly, opening his eyes. "Who knew a little girl could like guns so much?..."

Winona chuckled sadly with him, stroking the upside of his hand.

"When she was seven, my men were informed that RobCo- the building across from Tenpenny Towers- had untapped resources that could be useful. Scrap metal, spare parts, even _robots_ that you could program for your own needs… Elizabeta wanted to come with me, and I should have said no- told her to stay in Megaton with Manya… But she wouldn't have _any _of it. She claimed she wouldn't forgive me if I kept her home, so I took her… We were passing in front of Tenpenny Towers when _**it **_happened…"

"Wha- What happened, Mr. Burke?"

"_Allistair __**Tenpenny…**_" He hissed, gripping her hand a little tighter- but not enough where it hurt her. "That sick _bastard _had a fascination with ghouls… And by fascination, I mean he liked to skulk on his balcony and snipe at anything that even _resembled _a ghoul…"

"Oh- Oh my _God… _Don't tell me-…"

"He saw my little girl- _my little Elizabeta-_ in his scope… And he shot her…" He closed his eyes, his hand trembling as he pressed his fingers into his eyelids. "Sh- She-… She dropped to the gr- ground before I even knew what _happened…_"

"Mr. Burke, please…" She slid her other hand across the table to hold his hand in both of hers. "We can stop. You don't have to talk about it anymore if you don't want to…"

"You don't understand, my dear Winona… I _need _to talk about it." He looked up to her. "I haven't talked about it since it happened… I never told a _soul._"

"Th- Then why tell me? Someone you barely know?..."

He smiled sadly, leaning across the table to brush her bangs out of her eyes and whispered.

"_Because… You have her eyes._"

She stared at him, no amount of words _describing _how his statement made her feel as he pulled back from her.

"Lilith had purple eyes as well. They were vibrant- _fiery-_ just like yours… The moment I saw you walk into Moriarty's Saloon, you reminded me of her- of Elizabeta… She was very intelligent for a child of her age, just like you. She wanted to help people like her mother did, she wanted to scavenge old ruins like her father did… She had big plans in mind for herself."

Mr. Burke sighed, rubbing at his eyes as he continued.

"I picked up Elizabeta's body and went home to Megaton. I buried her next to her mother, in a hill up the road from Springvale. I assume it's closer to Vault 101 than I ever considered. Their graves are marked with crosses… I buried Elizabeta with her favorite doll. A china doll missing a leg, with porcelain skin, big purple eyes and curly black hair. It looked just like her mother, which is why she loved it so much…"

"Why go under employment of the man who killed your daughter, Mr. Burke?..."

"I wanted him to trust me," He answered right off the bat- as if expecting it. "I wanted Allistair to trust me so I could get closer to him and gain access to everything he held dear… When I applied for a job in the tower, he didn't even recognize me. He didn't see me in his scope when he killed my Elizabeta… I was glad, but at the same time I was _infuriated…_ He had no _idea _of the precious thing he stole from me. I watched and I waited for thirty years, planning out an endless amount of plans, scenarios playing in my head like a never ending movie of how I was to strip him of everything- and sometimes, I was just mercilessly toying with him before I killed him… But the thought of Elizabeta in that cold grave next to her mother made me hesitate at times. I was _raving _for revenge… But whatever humanity that remained overshadowed my anger, and I couldn't do it… Over time, the line became blurred, and sometimes I tried to force myself to forget that I even had a daughter or a wife. I tried to forget that I was happy once, and I tried to forget what happiness was in the first place… Because my happiness came from my life- and my life was my wife and child."

"But you," Mr. Burke looked up at her. "But _you _came along and did the deed for me… You laid to rest any demons Tenpenny conjured for me."

"_How?_ How did I manage to do _that?... _Wouldn't you have liked to have been the one to do it?"

"I believe in a place after you die… A place where good souls go when their bodies pass to decay and lifelessness. I believe Elizabeta was there, and I-… I didn't want her looking down at me so shamefully, wondering what happened to her sweet father… At times I forgot about that good place for good souls, and I killed. I killed for the man who killed my daughter so he could trust me…"

"…This is why you were happy to blow up Megaton." Winona realized. "You weren't just seeking revenge for Elizabeta, you were seeking revenge for Lilith, weren't you? You wanted to kill Confessor Cromwell."

"I did… But upon returning to Megaton, returning to the home I shared with my family… I remembered that Elizabeta was staring down and watching me. Probably with Lilith at her side. So I-… I panicked."

"And then you hired me… Someone who would do the work for you so you wouldn't upset Elizabeta or Lilith."

Mr. Burke smirked, ducking his head so he was staring down into his lap.

"_And because you looked like Elizabeta… In my mind, it was my little girl getting revenge for her mother and father._"

Winona bit her lip to keep from making _any _sort of noise as he lifted his head, revealing the tears that pooled in his sharp eyes and ran down his cheeks.

"I saw you, and I saw Elizabeta… My smart, beautiful little Elizabeta. I saw her come to me, like an angel, and give me a way out… So I took it, and I threatened you to work for me…"

"Just so you could have someone do your work?"

"Not entirely," He shook his head. "_So she wouldn't leave me __**alone **__again…_" He wiped at his eyes, trying to stifle any noises that expressed how he was feeling. His poker face was crumbling away.

"M- Mr. Burke…"

"I wondered if Allistair was doomed the moment I saw you… And I realized that he, indeed, was."

"…My mother died giving birth to me." Winona spoke, looking down at her plate. "Complications due to a first birth, and she already had heart problems to begin with… She died, and my father had to take care of me." She looked back at him, seeing that the tears had stopped and he was staring back at her with an almost indifferent look. It was unsettling to see that the man could switch off his emotions whenever he didn't feel like feeling them, and she knew it probably took _years _of practice. "About a month ago now, he escaped from Vault 101, and I followed him. He was all that I knew, and I-… I couldn't _stand _being without him… But that doesn't mean that I tried to forget that he existed."

She got up from her chair, using her crutch for support as he stared straight back into his eyes.

"Trying to forget someone you loved and held in a special place in your heart is pointless, Mr. Burke… And you know why? Because it's the same as trying to remember someone you never heard of or even _met._"

"Winona…"

"Elizabeta will love you, no matter what you do because you are her father. You are the one who raised her, you are the one who helped her up when she fell and scraped her knee- _you _are the one that made her feel beautiful when everyone looked down at her because of something she couldn't help- because she was a ghoul."

"…How do you know she wouldn't be mad with me?... How do you know she'd find it in her heart to forgive me?"

She hobbled over to him and grabbed his hand, squeezing it in hers.

"Because I know. I know because I never had a mother, and because my father treated me like I was a princess, too. He made me feel beautiful, and that I needed no one else… He was not just my father, but he was my best friend, too. He was always there, one-hundred percent- and I'm glad, too… I got into trouble a lot with the other Vault residents because my inventions would go out of control, and he always managed to talk them down."

He chuckled a little, smiling sadly.

"I love my father, as I know Elizabeta loved you- and _nothing _you can do or say will change the love she had for you… If you force yourself to forget her, aren't you forcing yourself to forget all the love you two shared?"

Mr. Burke stared down at the table silently, dropping his hand back to his lap from her grip, falling limp against his legs.

"I'm going to get some more sleep… I can't exactly go out and look for my dad when I've got a bum leg," She began to step towards the bed. "So I guess I'll be staying at Tenpenny for a while, Mr. Burke. I hope you don't mind a few new roommates!" She giggled, thinking of Widget in her backpack. "And don't worry, I'll clean up _any _messes Widget ma-"

Winona cried out in surprise when Mr. Burke grabbed her arm and spun her around, drawing her in close to his chest and wrapped his strong arms around her, hugging her tightly. She stood there, stunned, peeking over his shoulder just enough so she could stare at the wall behind him. She couldn't move her arms, either- as they were pinned to her sides by his hug.

"M- Mr. Burke-?..." She called, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Charles… My name is Charles." He answered.

Winona pulled back a little to look at him. He was crying again, tears rolling down his cheeks to come to the point of his chin before dripping off in little droplets. He was smiling… _Genuinely _smiling, and she couldn't help but smile back at him.

"Hello, Charles Burke. My name is Winona Parker."

"What's with the formal introductions?" He asked. "I know who you are."

"Well, we're about to enter a _business deal,_ and I think that starting off on the right foot can go a long way… Don't you agree?" She beamed, recalling how they first met- as scary as it was before. It didn't seem so bad now, now that she knew the reason why she was here for him in the first place.

He slowly began to smile back at her.

"I couldn't agree more, my dear Winona… I couldn't agree _any _more."


	22. CHP 22: A Little Imagination

**A/N: HULLO ALL! :D I'm sorry to get your hopes up if you believe that this is an early chapter posting but it is, in fact, _NOT._ I have now exchanged my update dates from Tuesday to Saturday to make it easier for any readers I have that are in school, and to make it easier on me because I am in school as well and shit gets busy =_="**

**Anywho! Just a quick warning... THERE IS SEX IN THIS CHAPTER! Well, not _sex,_ but SOMEONE gets a little mouth work xD -wink, wink, nudge, nudge- If you are wholy AGAINST sexual content to the degree of 'M' (what _other _degree of sex is there on here?... TRIPLE XXX! xD) then don't even bother to read this chapter because most of it contains said sexual content. I aplogize to the**** people who are uncomfortable with stuff like this. I don't see sex as something "taboo"- it's a one-in-a-million connection that two people share that I see as naturally beautiful and I don't mean to exploit it with any bad intent in mind (even if the writing of this chapter may not seem like that to you...).**

**So with all that business aside, this is the FIRST thing I've EVER written that contained pretty detailed sexual content... I HOPE IT CAME OUT REALSTIC ENOUGH BECAUSE FUCK ALL IF I KNOW xD!**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Butch watched as the days went by that the Clinic didn't <em>gain <em>any people, but began to_ lose_ some people. Old Lady Palmer stuck around, so did Christine, Susie, and Amata- Freddie stayed despite his father's disapproval and Butch stayed because he couldn't stand being around his mother anymore. His mother left, and Dolly drifted wherever he was, tailing him like it was nobody's business but hers and his. She made it her business to cling to his arm, trying to be all cutesy and shit- he made it his business to try and get her to take a hike.

It never worked.

Ever since Amata brought up the idea of _leaving_ Vault 101, it spread through every nook and cranny of the steel hallways like hellfire- catching everyone in its flames. Many disapproved, some agreed, and a resident or two couldn't wrap their heads around the idea _themselves_ so they remained neutral even though they showed signs of some hostility to opening up the door for good.

For starters- Stanley didn't want to pick sides, but he was still pretty pissed that the reactor went through a giant fryer when the door was opened because of Winona and her dad. The explosions and fires breaking out everywhere were too much for it to handle, so it kinda popped its top from the stress or something.

Freddie's dad said that Dr. Parker "always did right by him," and despite Winona's inventions freaking out from time to time, she was a good kid, but everyone could see that he blamed both of them for what was happening to the Vault and everyone that remained in it. It was probably adding insult to injury when your only son thinks he's in love with her. Talk about a kick in the head from a mule…

And _speaking _of mules- Freddie's mom was pretty pissed about the whole thing, too. She hated the idea of opening the Vault door, she said it was because "the kids around here are just _bored _and need something to do- and they think scaring the buh-_jeezus _ out of _us _is entertaining." She acted like she was with the others- the ones who disagreed with Amata's plan to open the door, but she claimed that she wasn't picking a side.

Last but not least, there was Andy. He was a robot. Whether the Vault opened or stayed closed, he'd still be doing the same damn thing every damn day- toasting radroaches and cleaning the bathrooms. He stayed in the clinic with the rest of them, though.

It wasn't exaggeration- only that many people (and one robot) decided not to pick a side.

So who was against opening the door? Amata's father, obviously. Old Lady Palmer called it "isolationism," and Butch didn't know what the definition of that word was, but he figured it meant "being an asshole and keeping people from living their lives the way they _want _to live it." Wally and his folks were against it, mostly because they blamed Winona for what happened to Stevie, and they were _furious _when they discovered Susie thought opening the door was a good idea. Her father gave her a shiner as punishment, but no one was surprised because everyone knew old heartless Allen Mack beat his kids because he didn't know how to treat them any other way. His mom was against it, Paul's father- Paul Senior- was against it because Paul was dead and he blamed Winona and her father, Dolly's folks were against it too… And everyone knew that it was only because they had personal issues with the two.

Dolly's mother, Deborah Horowitz, tried to convince Winona's dad to have an affair with her a few years back. When he politely refused, she became angry, and stormed off. Her husband, Daniel, found out not long afterward and threatened him. The security officers came and dealt with it. Butch was fifteen when it happened, and he remembered it clearly because he was there. Dolly was, too, out in the hallway when they yanked her father down to the slammer for the night so he could "think about his actions." She hated him and thought he was a pig. He certainly _looked _like one… And not too long after, Dolly's mother went around trying to convince _other _single men without dead wives rattling around in their closet to see if she could have affairs with them. It wasn't much to pick from, she only had Mr. Brotch and Jonas and they _both _told her no. After that, Dolly deemed her mother as a bitch who liked to sleep around and tried to keep their contact with one another to a minimum.

Butch sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes and looked around the clinic at the sleeping forms on the floors and the mattresses. Old Lady Palmer, Amata, Freddie, Susie, Christine… He wondered who else would join them. He knew there _had _to be more- they were probably just too much of little chicken shits to come and say what they thought was right… He _knew _that there were others who thought Winona and her dad had the right damn idea.

_Get to sleep- Amata said she's gonna tell us about her plan…_ He let his eyelids drift closed as he yawned, fixing his jacket tucked under his head as a pillow, and Dolly curled up next to him even closer once he settled- leg across his own, hand clutching the cloth of his jumpsuit over his stomach and her head rested on his chest. She kept bugging him about getting back together with her, and he pretty much figured that it'd save himself a lot of trouble if he just said "yes." So they were back together, and he was back to getting a hand-job or a blow-job.

He looked down at her idly, watching her coo with sounds of semi-sleep due to his shifting around. He was tired, but for some reason, he just couldn't get to sleep. He stared up at the ceiling.

_Get to sleep, 'ya __**fuck…**__ Get to sleep… Shit, maybe I needa walk around- get somethin' from the cafeteria… Like beer._

Butch gently lifted Dolly off him so he could get up, but before he could even sit upright she had her hand on his sleeve.

"B- Butchie?..." She slurred, cracking an eye open. "It's late… Lay back down and sleep."

"_I can't._" He answered in a whisper and rubbed his eyes. "_Tired as fuck, but I can't sleep. I'm gonna go to the cafeteria."_

She bolted upright at his side. "_I'll come with you._"

What did he say about her tailing him like it was nobody's business?

He sighed and nodded, feeling that it was better not to argue with her because 1.) She'd win anyways, and 2.) It'd wake everyone up and he didn't need _two _broads nagging at him- Dolly _and _Amata. She was almost at full recovery, and she was quickly building back her momentum to bitch at him whenever she damn well pleased.

They got up and made quietly their way out of the clinic and into the cafeteria down the stairs. Once there, they made sure there were no radroaches before strolling in. Dolly made herself comfortable at one of the booths, curling up on its cushions to rest her head on the table top while he went around the counter and opened the hatch in the floor disguised by a tile- reaching into its cool contents to pull out a beer bottle by its neck. He snapped the bottle cap off the top by using the edge of the counter as leverage and smacking his hand down on it, the cap flipping up into the air and he caught it- despite his tired reflexes.

"_Baby,_" Dolly moaned in an exhausted and nasally voice, pulling her head up from the table to look at him and she smiled weakly. "Gimme one too, will 'ya?"

Butch grumbled quietly as he removed the tile once again, opened the compartment and took out her own bottle of beer. He repeated the process of popping the cap off by using the edge of the counter and closed the hatch, sliding the tile back into place with his foot and walked around to her. He plopped down on the bench opposite of hers, sliding her beer towards her. She sat up as she grabbed at it, bringing it to her thin lips to throw her head back and take a deep swig. He mirrored her actions.

"So why can't you sleep?" She asked once her bottle was halfway empty, looking up at him through her eyelashes, thick and clumpy with makeup.

"I dunno," He wiped his face down and took another sip. A small, measured one. He didn't want to get up so soon to get another because he blew through his first one. "So _fucking _tired, but I can't get to sleep… Feel like I'm thinking about too damn much- like my brain just can't shut off, 'er somethin'…"

Dolly smiled at him, red lips turning at the corners and glistening with a certain sheen of the lighting. White teeth protruded between the ruby red lips, looking like pearls between slivers of velvet fabric and she got up, slowly making her way around the bench to sit down at his side. She placed a hand on his thigh.

"I can fix that," She stated, still smiling at him with those happy ruby red velvet cloths quirked above those gleaming white pearls.

"Whaddya mean?" He asked, tilting his head to the side and watching her from the corner of his eyes warily.

"To get you to stop thinking… Just for a little bit." She leaned up, pressing her lips to his in a quick kiss and pulled back, smiling even more. He opened his mouth to protest- saying that he didn't feel like fooling around right now but she quickly added on; "_And_ it could help you get to sleep."

Butch drew back into himself to think. He couldn't say no to that- he'd get off and it _could_ help him get to sleep… Even though he felt tired, maybe he just had some pent up energy he needed to release for the sake of just a few hours before Amata forced him to get up so the group could discuss her plan of getting the Vault door open further.

"Fine," He agreed, and noticed that she seemed a little _too _happy that he had. "But make it quick, Dolly. I ain't got all night. Don't wanna fall asleep when 'ya got your hands on me, 'cause I won't hear the _end _of it from you when I wake up."

"Whatever you say, baby," She answered in what she thought was probably the most _sexy,_ husky voice she could muster- but it came out ruined and like she was sitting in front of a spinning fan, talking directly into it. He said nothing, though, as she slipped off the bench, motioning for him to come to the edge where she sat only seconds ago. He did and she spread his legs, settling herself down in between them on her knees and looked up at him with wide blue eyes as she pulled down the zipper on his jumpsuit to the crotch.

"I dunno _why_ they gave us one piece outfits… Makes this so much more _difficult_ to do…" She whined nasally as she pulled apart the two lips of fabric, revealing his undergarments- a white shirt and his "lucky" black boxers with the loose waistband.

_Probably to give me more time to say "forget it" and leave while I still can,_ he mused at her question, poking at it with a stick conjured up by his mind as she drove her hand past the waistband of his boxers and lightly grazed his member with her fingertips. They were dry, and it felt slightly uncomfortable.

It wasn't the first time he experienced a hand-job from Dolly. The usually cold, but at lucky times _rarely _somewhat warm hands, the dry palms and fingertips, sometimes her nails were too long and he got pricked and he'd yell at her and then she'd continue on until he tossed off and she'd cuddle up to him and that would be that.

_Just hurry up and get it over with, Dolly…_ His mind growled as he looked down, watching her pull his flaccid length free from his boxers- 7 inches limp, about 9 and a half hard coming from a small nest of thick, curly black hair.

"Oh! I think you got bigger from last time, Butchie!" She giggled, almost _marveling _at his member like it was something to behold.

He gave an inaudible sigh and gave her a look that screamed; _"Stop talking and just hurry up, I'm tired, Dolly."_

She didn't notice the look, but either way she began rubbing her hand up and down his length at an even speed like she always did- not too fast but not too slow, either. He was beginning to get a _little _hard, but it wasn't enough, and she seemed to figure that out rather quickly because suddenly those ruby red velvet lips were pressing onto his tip in little, quick kisses. It was a nice change of pace, but he knew what an oncoming blow-job meant.

"So what'd 'ya do _now?_" Butch asked, placing his elbow on the table and pressed his palm to his cheek, staring down at her with bored eyes.

Her lips pulled back from his length and she pouted up at him, still gliding her hand up and down his length in even strokes from base to tip.

"I-…" Dolly began unevenly and sighed, the hot exhale of her breath hitting him _right _on the tip and he tried to urge back a shiver. "You were right. I was the one that wrote that shit on Winona's wall… The _Penny Whore _thing."

That was all he needed in order to shove her hands off, put his length back in his pants, zip up his Vault suit and go back to the clinic. He'd probably yell at her and tell her to go sleep on another mattress- he could see the _whole _scenario playing in his head… But he didn't move. He didn't breathe. He just continued staring down at her with only three words playing and then _replaying _in his head as she began to rub her hand up and down his length a bit faster, pumping him, and he got a bit harder.

_Winona._

_Penny Whore._

_Winona._

_Penny Whore._

_Winona._

_Penny Whore._

…_Why'd you go?..._

"It was stupid, baby- I _know…_ I know it pissed you off, so I wanna make it up to you…" She murmured as she lowered her head back to his length and continued caressing the tip with her lips and gentle kisses.

But as she turned her head back down, the lighting caught her hair and it shone- flashing white in his eyes and he sucked in an uneven breath when Winona suddenly flashed in his mind.

Sitting at her desk in class, hair tied up with that black satin ribbon she always had, furiously jotting down notes.

Walking the hallways with Amata, laughing at something that probably wasn't all that funny with her weird bug robot following them both like a dream.

The night he ditched Dolly and came into the cafeteria to find that it was _her _working on that blueprint for her "latest and greatest invention."

And suddenly, his mind stuck on that image like super glue- like seeing something disturbing but you were unable to tear your eyes away from it for one reason or another. She had her silver hair tied up in the ribbon, pencil in one hand, eraser in the other, coffee colored skin practically _glowing _in the dim light of the cafeteria as she gazed at him with those intense, lavender eyes and suddenly the very _smell _of lavender enveloped his senses. It was like she was all around him…

"_She doesn't make you feel good, does she, DeLoria?"_ Winona torments him in his mind, thin lips pulled back in that picture perfect smirk- the one she _always _gave when she knew he was up to no good.

He blinked and he was looking back at Dolly, watching her continue to kiss his tip and pump him at a not-so-fast but a little more quick than usual pace before he blinked again and he was suddenly sitting in front of Winona in the diner. He realized he was sitting at the _exact _same table he sat at with her those few year ago. She wasn't smirking anymore, but actually _smiling._ Genuinely, wholeheartedly, _smiling._

"_Do you think I could make you feel good, DeLora?" _She taunts him again, letting out a small giggle as she gets up and circles the table, sitting at his side and her hand slowly drifts to the crotch of his lap. He could barely register her feather-soft digits on his clothed member, but just looking down and _seeing _her hand there was enough to get him half-mast.

He blinked _again._ And there was Dolly, parting her lips to take his tip into the warm and moist cavern of her mouth, still pumping on whatever she hadn't put into it yet. He blinked again and there was Winona, suddenly the cafeteria was dim again and it was starting to get hot and his suit was feeling _pretty _damn tight by now with her hand there.

"_How'd you like my hands on you?"_

_**Blink.**_ _Dolly's still here._

_**Blink.**_ _"How'd you like my mouth on you?"_

_**Blink.**_ Dolly was still pumping him, going faster but not moving her mouth _anywhere._ Just containing his tip.

_**Blink.**_ Winona was suddenly straddling his lap, cupping his face in her hands as he looked up into her wild lavender eyes, inhaling her very scent and her barely-noticeable breasts pressing into his collarbone like perky little fucks. Small, but perky.

"_How'd you like to be __**inside **__of me?"_

_**Blink.**_ It took _everything _in his power not to moan at the sound of Winona's sultry voice upon his ear when he saw Dolly again, finally bringing more of his length into her mouth- but not much. And she _still _wasn't moving at all, just staying still and capturing him while pumping him up and down, _up _and _down._ He was afraid that if he moaned, it'd be because Winona wasn't there anymore and _she _was. Why was he even _thinking _about Winona like that? When he had a crush on her, he _never _thought of them like that! The most he thought of was them sharing a soda and she giggled at something clever he said about Paul's low intelligence level and then she'd lean over and kiss him and Dolly would sit in the corner, all whiny and crying and shit and she'd leave him the fuck alone.

_**Blink.**_ Winona's lips were ghosting over his own, barely a breath away and he wanted to _yell_ at her to kiss him. _Beg _of her to kiss him! But she was suddenly sliding down, _down, __**down**_ on him, capturing his suit zipper with her teeth and tugging it down with her as she disappeared under the table and spread his legs by the knees, making sure the zipper was all the way down.

_**Blink.**_ Holy mother of _fuck_ _and a half_, the cafeteria was like a fucking _oven-_ heating up to a million degrees… Or maybe that was just him? Maybe _he_ was turning into a little oven? He closed his eyes and tilted his head back as his breathing came out in shallow, desperate pants. He didn't want to look at Dolly anymore.

_**Blink. **_His throbbing member was free of his tight boxers, hitting cool air contradicted by Winona's even, hot as _fuck _exhales on his tip and making him harden even further. Without words or questions or even _hesitations, _she parted her lips and flicked her tongue at the underside of his member teasingly, thumb rubbing at the underside of his tip.

_**Blink. **_He gasped with surprise at how _hot _her mouth was, even though he was with Dolly, now- and she was suddenly taking some of him in- she could only take a few inches, not even _attempting _to go further than that because she liked playing it safe and he _hated_ that. With a passion. She removed her hands and began to bob up and down his length at that even pace and that safe few inches taken in.

_**Blink.**_ Winona's head moved forward and back as she continued flicking her tongue at the underside of his length, going to the base and then dragging it back up at an _agonizingly __**slow **_pace to swirl it around his tip. Her soft, smooth, _moist _hands began to pump him at a pace that shoved a desperate moan out of his throat right then and there.

_**Blink.**_ "O- Oh- Oh my _God,_" He gasped, his breathing turning from shallow pants to ragged exhales that burned his lungs as something began to boil and churn at the base of his gut- right above his length.

_**Blink.**_ _"Wi- Winona!"_ He wanted to moan as she suddenly took _all _of him in- deep throating him with suckling noises and seemingly having _no _trouble whatso_ever. _She'd move all the way to his base, nested by curly black hair, before dragging those _soft as fucking __**satin **_lips all the way back up to his tip to give it a nice few swirls with her white-hot tongue and then bob her head back down on him, all the way, again.

_**Blink.**_ He gripped Dolly's curly chocolate curls.

_**Blink. **_He gripped Winona's silvery-white strands in his clenched fist, allowing him some sort of power that made him feel so _dominant _and made her look _so _weak… Making her look like a willing slave to him- innocent and wanting to do _anything _and _everything _he asked of her to do. _Stop giving me those innocent little eyes of yours- or I'm going to come in that fucking hot mouth of yours and all over your innocent little face._

_**Blink.**_ "O- Oh _fuck!_ _Fuck __**me…**_" He murmured pleadingly as the churning turned into an oncoming tide of a burning, broiling, almost-there wave of pleasure as Dolly continued to take him in and then take him out of her warm mouth at that fucking _annoying _little safe and easy pace of hers.

_**Blink.**_ Winona suddenly pulled him out, blowing cold air on his hard member to contradict that heat he once felt before swirling her tongue on the tip once again, flicking it from tip to base and back up again, taking him into her pulsing wet mouth once more.

_**Blink. **__Almost there… Almost __**there!...**_

_**Blink.**_ Her blueprints were suddenly knocked to the floor by his arms as he hastily gripped the table with his free hand, the other still entangled in her hair, and he continued breathing with ragged, helplessly quick inhales and drawling exhales as he hunched over the table, cracking an eye open to watch her work. Her lips were turned up into that smirk again- she _knew __**damn **__well _what she was doing to him!

_**Blink. **__Just a few more- just a few __**more **__pumps… Fuck, why don't you use your tongue like __**she **__does? Why don't you use your tongue __**at **_**all?**

_**Blink. **__"Fuck- I gotta come…"_

_**Blink. **_"D- Dolly… I'm almost there!..." He cried.

_**Blink. **_Winona pulled back and giggled, pumping him vigorously. _"Do you wanna come in my mouth?... Or on my __**innocent **__little face?"_

_**Blink. **__Why can't you do that, Dolly?_

_**Blink. **__"In your __**fucking **__hot little fucking mouth… And you're going to fucking __**take **__it!"_

_**Blink. **__Why can't you use your hands like that? Why can't you use your lips like that? Why can't I talk to you like that? Why do you __**always **__gotta play it safe and take it easy with me?_

_**Blink. **__"What__**ever **__you want, Butch…"_ She growled against his tip, completely taking his length in her white-hot mouth again and bobbed her head back and forth at a quick pace.

_**Blink.**_ "D- Dolly! I'm gonna-! _I'm __**gonna-!**_" His eyes clenched tightly shut.

_**Blink. **_He heard naughty and _wet _noises coming from Winona under the table. Looking down at her, eyes trailing between her small but _definitely _perky breasts, he saw that her Vault suit was unzipped all the way down and her hand had disappeared into her panties as she fingered herself for him, moaning unintelligibly against his length with it inside her mouth.

And it was enough to make him come- his seed searing out of him in hot spurt after spurt.

_**Blink. **_"F- _Fuck!_" He cried as he came into Dolly's mouth, throwing his head back as he groaned loudly with pleasure and gripped her hair tighter so he could completely release himself into her mouth.

_**Blink. **_His come spilled out of her mouth, dripping down her coffee lips and chin as she looked up at him with those oh-so-innocent lavender eyes, still fingering herself and making those naughty wet noises under the table.

_**Blink.**_ Dolly pulled away from him once he was finished, fanning at her face, twisted up in a disgusted expression as if she had something in her mouth that tasted _terrible_ and she quickly jumped to her feet, darting towards the sink to spit out his semen as he flopped back onto the red cushions of the booth, some strands of hair falling out of place as he kept his eyes closed- panting heavily and struggling to catch his breath and slow down the rapid beat of his heart with his now flaccid member falling against his stomach.

_**Blink. **_Winona swallowed what was in her mouth already, continuing to milk him of any other hot seed he had to offer and pulled back with a satisfied noise, wiping what dripped from her lips and chin with her fingers and they disappeared into her mouth to lick them clean as she pulled her hand from her panties, showing her juices web between her fingers and glisten in the dim light.

_**Blink. **_"_Buuuutch!_ That was fucking _disgusting!_" Dolly whined nasally, spitting in the sink again another few times for good measure.

_**Blink.**__"Did you like that?"_

_**Blink. **_"I told you before _not _to do that!"

_**Blink. **__"I cleaned you off…"_

_**Blink. **_"I _hate _it when you do that…" She spit into the sink one last time and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing her ruby red lipstick.

_**Blink. **__"Can you clean __**me **__off, too?"_ Winona asked in a pouty voice with her lips turned into a luscious pout of their own, but he already had her thin fingers to his lips to suck them clean before she even _asked _him to.

_**Blink. **_"Jeeze… I don't think I've seen you _this _tired after I did that… I must be getting better!" Dolly giggled as she walked back over to him, plopping down on the cushion right above his head- occupying whatever space his body couldn't stretch over.

_**Blink. **__"You should ditch your girl and come in here more often to see me… You __**certainly **__won't regret it."_

_**Blink. **_"I hope I got you tired enough to go to sleep now, baby…" She cooed as she leaned over and put his limp length back into his boxers and pulled up his suit zipper, moving his head up and shifting over a bit to put his head onto her lap as if it were a comfy pillow.

He wanted to blink again in order to see what Winona would do next, but almost frowned. The reason why he wasn't able to blink was because his eyes were already closed, and the reason why he wasn't able to frown was because he was already drifting off to sleep- reliving the experience of Winona sucking him off all _over _again.

Butch woke up the next morning for Amata's discussion with the others as a _very_ happy guy, and Dolly believing that she was the one girl that made it happen.


	23. CHP 23: The Hitmen

**A/N: HEY ALL! How's YOUR Saturday coming along? I was supposed to go swimming to day, but my plans got cancelled D: Konfessionist does NOT approve...**

**Anywho! If you've taken note of the chapter title, you've probably come to a few conclusions as to what this chapter will contain, so I'm hoping to focus you around one idea. Ever had the pleasure of coming into contact with Mr. Burke's hitmen if you disarm the bomb? Ever had the pleasure of coming into contact with Mr. Burke's hitmen even those he's six feet under? Yeah, been there- done that. You've probably noticed that the hitmen share the same skin and items as your regular Talon Company Merc, so you won't be able to tell them apart until the battle has begun!**

**Sorry for rambling... Anyways, I decided that I wanted to give Mr. Burke's three hitmen some personality and make them individual people instead of carbon copies of the loathsome Talon Copany! So I hope you all enjoy my take on his hitmen in this chapter, because they're pretty much gonna be here for a _very _long time :3 Let me know if they seem too 2-D or if there is something off about their personality or just their character in general. I'm trying to teach myself how to create very well rounded characters, and I find writing down what I want for each is very helpful! Helps me plan ahead, yo ;D**

**Again, SORRY FOR RAMBLING! Just wanted to explain myself for this chapter... I FEEL LIKE WIDGET DOESN'T SHOW UP ENOUGH =W= -sigh- I should change that... *Widget flies up onto my head, waves happily* Bye for now!**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Winona chewed on her lower lip behind her welder's mask as she began to mold and piece together the skeleton of Gizmo's torso at her workbench. She had been in her apartment all day working on him- and where did the apartment come from, you may ask? No one other than Mr. Burke. Word had quickly spread that Tenpenny had died, but no one knew it was <em>her <em>doing or had even suspected it- which was a little odd in itself, because someone must have been suspicious about the Tenpenny Towers owner dying only an hour or so after the arrival of someone _completely _new and unknown. Mr. Burke calmly explained to the residents that Tenpenny had died of old age, and for some reason, that seemed to have taken it as a plausible answer and hurried off to other questions- such things as "will Tenpenny Tower close?", "Will we be forced out into the Wasteland?" and, of course, "Who's going to run Tenpenny now?"

The residents began to talk that some sort of campaign should be posted to vote for who should be the new owner of Tenpenny Towers, but even if Mr. Burke had _agreed_ to a campaign, he knew everyone would place themselves in the running and vote for no one else _but _themselves… He saw it as a lost cause before it even started, and he slipped away before anyone had noticed, thankfully.

It seemed that he was struggling with the situation… She could tell. Even though he wanted to have nothing to _do_ with Tenpenny Towers because of the way it was associated with his horrid past, he didn't want it closing down and shoving people out into the Wasteland. He said that people needed a safe haven- but she somehow felt that it was because he wanted to give _her_ a safe place to return to when she was off gallivanting to find her father. This was why he wanted _her _to run Tenpenny Towers. She had flat out _refused, _stating that she wouldn't be able to care for a whole _community _of people if she didn't even know how to take care of herself past the stone walls of Tenpenny, and that she'd be off trying to find her dad anyways so she wouldn't be around in the first place for who knows _how _long.

_Which reminds me,_ the spark on her welder died away and she lifted up her protective mask, looking to the clock on the wall above her pristine Nuka-Cola machine. Widget flew over and landed on the protective glass with a wing-nut in her mouth to eat. _Charles said he'd be here soon with some company. I should probably start cleaning up…_ She pulled off her protective gloves and set them on top of her workbench alongside her welder, and then removed her mask from her head with Widget slipping down to her shoulder, burping loudly before beeping a polite "_excuse me_." She knew that he'd throw a fit if her apartment was in disarray again- she refused to get a maid, but she _also _refused to clean her apartment herself. It drove him _especially _nuts when she explained her logic- _"there is order behind my chaos,"_ she giggled.

A few days ago, when Mr. Burke had hugged her for the first time after talking about his daughter Elizabeta, they remained like that for a few minutes before he pulled back and told her what he knew information about her dad. He said he walked in only moments before he did, and the Vault suit he was wearing at the time had snagged his curiosity. He spoke with Moriarty- it seemed like they knew each other from a while back- and they began talking about a man who called himself Three Dog. He broadcasted a radio station, proclaiming something called "The Good Fight." Her father left the bar not too long after that, and then Winona came by only a few hours later looking for him.

_And to think I was only a few short hours behind him,_ she picked her dirty clothes up off the floor and placed them in her laundry basket in the bathroom. _If Moriarty wasn't just a jerk and gave me the information I needed, I probably could have caught up with him… Now I'm about four freaking __**weeks**__ behind!_

Just as she was cleaning up her inventor clutter from the wooden dinner table for six, she carefully picked up her latest invention- **A Helping Hand**. It was an invention that acted as a sort of "expansion" for her limbs- for her hands, to be exact. The invention would be able to give you the leverage you need in order to grab objects that are out of reach, like up on a high shelf or something. She'd like to say there was some valid reason _behind_ the invention, but she needed a break from Gizmo and decided to make something else for the heck of it. Well- this was the product of her boredom.

She slipped it on- a brace that wrapped around her wrist with a paddle for support against the back of her hand where a large metal hand, one three _times_ the size of hers (to clutch objects no matter how big or small they were) jutting up from the paddle so it was the span of her arm, giving her a lot of length. Rings would be slipped onto the first joints of all her fingers, and the rings would be attached to string- the strings would end connected to the adjacent fingers of the metal hand so she could control its movements.

She curled her fingers into her palm, and the thick fingers on the metal hand followed suit in unison with her movements. Even though it was one of those "for fun" projects, she still treated it seriously. The fact that the grip wasn't as strong as an actual hand bothered her- giving chance for the object you grab to slip and break, or if it were heavy enough, you wouldn't be able to lift it up at _all!_ It needed some tweaking, that was for sure…

A knock rebounded from the door behind her, and she looked up at it over her shoulder as Widget flittered about the room behind her, humming happily.

"Who is it?" She called, looking around for Widget when the robot had just _suddenly _disappeared. _Where have you gone, you little mischief-maker?..._

"It's Burke, Winona."

Winona looked up at the clock, smiling at his punctuality. _Right on time,_ she thought as she made her way to the door and opened it with her real hand, taking off **A Helping Hand** once the door was wide enough for her to see Mr. Burke standing in the hallway. She pulled up the zipper on her bright red jumpsuit till it was to her neck- whenever she opened the door the chilliness of the hallway escaped into her warm room. She didn't enjoy it. It reminded her of the Vault with its long, winding, _freezing _cold corridors…

"Busy at work, I see?" He quirked an eyebrow behind his dark lenses as he looked down to the invention in her possession.

"Nah, I finished this about a day ago. Only took me two hours, but I guess that's because I didn't go through the trouble of drawing up a blueprint- or even thinking of a good reason behind my new invention…"

"May we come in?"

"_We?_" She looked over his shoulder, finding three people standing behind him. One was very tall, and the other two were pretty short. She couldn't make out any distinguishable traits or features, as she wasn't able to see enough over his shoulder. "Oh, yes- please come in. Sorry about my rambling…"

"It's no trouble, my dear." He nodded as he stepped in and stopped dead in his tracks right at her side. "Winona, what have I told you about cleaning your apartment?"

"_What? _But I just cleaned i- _**Widget!**_" Winona cried, gaping in horror at the mess her apartment was. Her blueprints and scrap parts were scattered across the floor, her clothes hung off the furniture, the sheets on her bed were a mess and tools were on the bookshelves- replacing the books and magazines and documents she had placed there. Said books were nowhere in sight.

"I had a feeling your little… _"friend"_ had something to do with this," He sighed and shook his head, glancing over to her when Widget poked her head out of a pile of dirty laundry on the floor and waved at her innocently.

"Don't play all cutesy with _me!_ I'm going to rip out your internal battery component and feed it to Gizmo!" She exclaimed, pouncing on the pile of clothes Widget was ensnared in.

"_EEP!_" The bug bot beeped out, diving deep into the pile once more. Once Winona clasped her hands around it she flew up into the air, shaking her head dizzily and darted off to hide somewhere.

"Get _back _here and clean up the mess you made!" The robot flew out onto the balcony and slammed the door behind her. "_Widget!_"

A low voice chuckled behind her and she spun around to find Mr. Burke cleaning up her floor, leaning over to pick up the mess by hand. Three people stood behind him by the door. Two men and a woman- the men were Caucasian while the woman was Asian. One man was old- probably as old as her father- and he was _very _tall. His wide-brimmed hat kept her from seeing his face, but he wore what looked to be a heavy-resistant tan trench coat with a lot of pockets and detailing, and a belt with pouches circled around his waist. Under his trench coat, he was donning a skin-tight black suit with a high neck, black boots, and black gloves.

The Asian woman couldn't have been any older than Winona. She had angular blue eyes due to her ethnic background, but one was covered by a black eye patch. She was toned for a woman, but also heavily scarred- her past encounters with trouble divulged through any opening her armor gave, and most of it divulged her midsection. She wore the top of what looked to be like metal armor- spiked shoulder pads and all, but the cloth that came underneath it to piece it together was ripped to reveal her ruined stomach (it looked like it had been burned pretty badly), and ventilation tubes circled around from the front of the armor to the back under her arms. She wore black leather pants with metal shin guards and black combat boots that came below her knee- her pin-straight black hair was very short in the back and cascaded down so it was longer in the front, and it stuck out from underneath the dark brown head wrap on her head. She scowled with a cigarette jutting out from between her full lips, scrunching up her perky nose and slightly rounded face and her arms crossed over her chest.

The other man accompanying Mr. Burke looked to be in his mid-thirties, give or take a year. He had _very _sharp features- sharp cheekbones, sharp nose with a slight bump in the slope when you looked at him in profile (and you had to assume that he must have broken it _many _times before for it to get a bump like that), pointed chin, and angular face that looked like it was chiseled out of _stone _by angels. Dark sunglasses hid his undoubtedly sharp eyes. His wavy, chocolate brown hair was shaved on one side and the rest was combed over to the other side. It was about shoulder-length and was done in a loose braid that draped over his broad shoulder. He wore dark olive green, baggy pants, a black t-shirt with a ragged collar, a brown leather duster, and a crimson bandana. Belts of ammunition surrounded his waist, pistols were holstered on each of his thighs, and a combat knife was tucked into the hem of his combat boot. His body looked like it was _also_ chiseled in stone by angels… Lithe but muscular, perfect and evenly-toned but an upraised scar peeked out from the hem of his shirt collar. He was too gorgeous for words to describe- and the fact that every beautiful feature about him was being contradicted by something dark and negative… She couldn't describe what that made her feel or think, either. She couldn't find the words.

The young man smirked at Winona devilishly when he noticed she was studying his body, and she froze, reddened color draining into her face out of embarrassment. He had gotten the wrong idea!... Or hadn't he?

"Like what 'ya see, baby doll?" He asked, putting his hands on his hips.

"Oh- go get fucked by a Deathclaw, Glasgow. No one wants to look at your fucking ugly-ass face," The woman snapped, eyes sharply cutting straight to him and she blew cigarette smoke out of her nose.

Mr. Burke sighed, placing the mess that once occupied her room- tools, blueprints, scrap parts and clothes- into her laundry basket for her to sort through later.

"Please excuse them. At times they can be of no more use to me than a couple of bickering children."

"Says the one picking up _after _ a kid," She snorted, looking at Winona. "How old are you _anyways?_"

"You'd do best to hold your tongue, Harriet." Mr. Burke hissed in warning.

The tall, old man who had chuckled earlier chuckled again, removing his hat from his head and placed it over his chest, giving Winona a slight respectable bow of his head. He had shoulder-length grey hair that rung around the crown of his head, as he was completely bald on top. A thick moustache adorned his upper lip and a small triangular patch of grey hair was below his thin lower lip. Weathered brown eyes framed by crow's feet sat above high cheekbones and a long, straight nose. He was lightly wrinkled, and slight bags hung under his eyes.

"Pardon us for not introducing ourselves before entering your home," He spoke in a weathered but very stern voice, offering her a hand. "It is very rude of us to intrude unannounced."

"No- Not at all…" She answered modestly, placing her hand on his and he brought it to his lips to kiss the top side courteously- moustache and soul patch tickling her skin.

"And they say chivalry is dead," The woman rolled her eyes with an obnoxious snort, taking another long drag from her cigarette before putting it out on the young man's coat shoulder to leave a burned hole. He gave her a displeased look, but said nothing.

"My name is Sir Sumner," The old man continued as he returned her hand to her and he straightened up, still holding his hat in front of him respectfully. "I presume you are the young woman Mr. Burke has referred to as Winona."

"That would be me," She answered sheepishly, scratching the back of her head- her silvery hair was braided with her mother's black satin ribbon. She had no clue Mr. Burke spoke of her to them beforehand… He had never mentioned the three before, as far as she was aware of!

Mr. Burke stepped forward, clapping a hand on her shoulder to get her attention. He removed his glasses, tucking them into his breast pocket, but his fedora remained on his head.

"Winona, these are some employees of mine."

Sir Sumner nodded his head in respect again.

"Yo," The woman- who Mr. Burke had called Harriet- gave an uncharacteristic and very lazy salute with two fingers to her forehead, leaving her cigarette butt on the young man's shoulder. But he had his eyes on Winona- his thin lips turned up in that devilish smirk again and it sent chills down her spine.

"Hey, doll."

"It's nice to meet you all…" She gave a meek smile and a wave, **A Helping Hand** in her other hand and hugged to her chest. "My name is Winona Parker."

"Yeah, yeah. We've heard of you." The woman waved her off and folded her arms over her chest again, scowling. "Burke's told us about you."

"S- So I've been told…" Winona had a feeling she wasn't exactly _liked _by this woman for some reason- whatever that reason maybe… Had she offended her or something? "But what I don't understand is why he'd tell you three about me… I'm nothing special."

"Oh, you most _certainly _are, my dear Winona." Mr. Burke put his arm around Winona's shoulders and she leaned into his body. "You see, they work for me as mercenaries, but if you'd prefer to get _technical…_ Most of their work is to act as a hitman for me." He gestured to all three of them in one swooping motion with his free arm before tucking his thumb into the buttoned lining of his suit jacket. "Each of them possess their own individual sets of skills, making them the perfect combination for any and _all _missions that are given to them by me or anyone else."

"Sir Sumner," Sumner bowed his head in respect again when he said his name. "Best of the best in sword fighting- and the master of any and_ all_ energy weapons. I've got a quick tongue for difficult situations and quick hands if you ever find yourself injured- not to mention that I have quite the library of medical knowledge, and I am quite handy with terminals. I am the best equipped out of my cohorts in protecting and ultimately saving your life."

"_Pfft,_" Harriet huffed, glancing to the elderly man and put her hands on her hips, cocking one out. "Way to show us up you wrinkly kiss-ass," She looked back to Winona. "Harriet Takanowa's what my parents called me. Gimmie a target, and I can take them down with whatever 'ya give me. Big guns? I like big guns. Small guns? I like 'em too. But _explosives?_ I can clear out _floors _of enemies if 'ya give me those babies- and I ain't too shabby with my fists when the enemy is in my fucking face… I prefer to use my fists." She cracked her knuckles and gave a merciless smile. "Nothing like the sound of crunching bone in the fucking morning!"

"Glasgow- got no need for a last name," The young man nonchalantly dove his hands into his coat pockets, still smirking devilishly at Winona. "Years of experience makes me the stealthiest motherfucker you'll ever see out here. I've got the hands for picking locks, I've got the eyes for a sniper scope, I've got the know-how when it comes to sneakin' up behind the enemy and stabbing them in the kidneys- and I've got the minds of the most sadistic sonsofbitches all figured out so I can get you out of a bad situation alive and relatively unharmed."

"_That's _because you're en ex-raider," Harriet jabbed.

"…Thanks, Tak."

Winona blinked in awe. These people were _Gods _when it came to experience in the Wasteland- she felt no better than a chittering radroach compared to them with her lack of know-how in- well… In _everything_ really! The most she could do was take stuff apart and put it back together in working condition, if not better, _blindfolded,_ and she was pretty good at repair if she wanted to toot her own horn. She's never worked with terminals before, so she wouldn't know if she was good with them. She was too clumsy to be sneaky. She didn't have a silver tongue. She hated guns- big _or _small- because they were too loud and too difficult for her to control, so she preferred melee- but that may have also been because she was the Vault's baseball All-Star for _years, _so swinging bats was what she was used to. She never picked a lock before- like, using a bobby pin and screwdriver lock picking, but she knew how to work metal slide-open doors with all the buttons and mess of wires under the control panel due to her sneaking around in the Vault's corridors as a kid. She couldn't tell one drug from another- for all she knew she could inject herself with Med-X instead of a Stimpak and be none the wiser! If she tried using an explosive, she'd most likely blow _herself _up… She had nothing compared to these- these armed _assassins _and Lords of raining death on poor miserable souls!

"Uh… I'm sorry, why does this sound like a sales pitch?" She looked to Mr. Burke, placing her handy invention on the large bookshelf at her side. Widget fluttered in, landing on her shoulder and sighed with relief that her inventor had _completely _forgotten about her little prank earlier.

"'Cause it kinda is, doll." Glasgow scratched the side of his face impassively.

"How so?" She glanced over to him.

"Mr. Burke has informed us that you are in search of your father, but he has _also _informed us that you have recently come from a Vault and this is your first time out in the real world." Sumner answered. "He would like one of us to accompany you on your quest to find your father- to protect you and teach you how to survive out here."

"Wait a minute- _Charles!_" Winona exclaimed exasperatedly, taking Widget from her shoulder into her cupped hands to hold her to her chest and darted her eyes over to him. "I can't have people getting hurt, or worse, _dying _trying to protect me!"

"That's what I'm paying them to do," He answered matter-of-factly.

"Well I-… I don't _like _it!" She cried, looking back to the three of them. "I'm sorry, but I don't want your services."

"People out here would _kill_ to get a trained bodyguard like one of us, honey." Harriet stated. "And you're just gonna pass up a golden-spooned chance like _that?_"

"Well, _yes,_ because I don't know where my search for my dad will take me and I don't want someone getting hurt on account of me!"

"It's what we're hired to do, doll." Glasgow shrugged uncaringly. Wow. The guy had a _million _expressions… Bored and indifferent.

"And it's _wrong _to put your life on the line for someone you don't know!"

"Fuck, _Burke!_" Harriet glared at him with her good eye, pointing sharply at Winona in an accusing gesture. "This tater-tot's greener than Glasgow when I dared him to eat raw Mirelurk meat last week. She ain't gonna change her mind! If she wants to go and find daddy dearest without a little fucking helping hand, then so _fucking _be it."

"No." He refused sternly, turning to look at the stubborn inventor. "I am _not_ allowing you to leave Tenpenny without the services of _one _of these men."

"_What?_ You can't do that!"

"I most certainly can." Mr. Burke folded his arm over his chest. "And I most _certainly _will."

"Ch- Charles!" She whined with wide, unbelieving eyes.

"My mind is made up. Unless you pick one of them, you are not allowed to leave. I refuse to let _you _get killed because you were too stubborn to even grasp the hand we are trying to give you. Do you honestly think that your little inventions will be able to help you out there if you don't know how the world works? You're not in the Vault anymore, Winona. You have more to worry about now than a few stray radroaches. You have more to worry about now than a few little nibbles- you could get shot, slaughtered, dismembered, raped, robbed… Even all of the _above _if you decide to go out on your own and raiders or Super Mutants come across you."

"Oh, and tortured. Don't forget tortured." Glasgow added on in a knowing tone. "He's right, 'ya know. 'Ya never know what's out there. It's better you have one of us around to protect you and _not _need our services opposed to shoving us off and wanting us when you get attacked by a Yao Guai or somethin'."

"A Yao- _Yao Guai? _What on _Earth _is that?"

"…Are you fucking _serious?_ Or are you just dickin' around?" Harriet spat. "It's a big, fucking _gnarly _beast- they could knock you out in one swipe or snap your neck like a chicken bone if they get it in their jaws. It takes the best hunters out there to even take _one _of them down, so you're _definitely_ gonna need one of us if you go out there."

Winona swallowed hard. "So I-… I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"No. You don't." Mr. Burke confirmed. "Each of them contain ongoing contracts with me- and each last their own individual period of time. They are to do as I say until they are released from their contract by termination or by other means- such as _death._ They will do the same for you on the outside of Tenpenny Towers- _nothing changes._ Leadership and power simply shifts from me to you in that case."

She looked to Widget on her shoulder as she clicked her metallic tongue and she jabbed her front foot at Sir Sumner, showing that she thought that _he _would be the best candidate for the job and therefore should be chosen. But by now, the young inventor already had her ribbon removed from her braid so it untangled from the design and she tied her hair back to get her bangs out of her eyes. She was deep in thought, thinking of who the best option would be. A quick look at Mr. Burke before slipping into her world of subconscious concentration showed that he knew what the tying of her hair back with her ribbon signified.

_Sir Sumner seems to have more experience with more fields- but that's due to his older age. Gave him more time to __**gain **__that experience. That could be a con to having him around. His reflexes could be impaired, or something. Harriet seems good in battle but not much else- and she seems a little too tightly-wound. She'll charge in head-first without thinking, and possibly get us __**both **__killed in that case!… And Glasgow? __**Good gravy, he was sculpted by **_**Angels!** _Winona, focus damnit… Get back on track! He seems to hit the nail on the head in most fields that I need, too… But he doesn't seem to have a lick of medical knowledge if either of us got hurt, just like Harriet doesn't have much medical knowledge either. He seems a little lazy too boot, so it might be difficult to give him incentive to come protect me, and the fact that Harriet mentioned that he used to run with __**raiders **__has me a little uneasy… Of course, he'd know how to avoid them or take care of them if we ever came across them- right?_

After most likely ten minutes of deliberation, a light bulb flicked on above Winona's head, and she knew who she was going to take with her.

"I'll take all of them," She decided with finality.

Sir Sumner looked at her with a marveled expression. Harriet looked like she was about to shit a brick, and Glasgow seemed equally stunned and confused- no longer bored or indifferent.

"_All_ of them, my dear?" Mr. Burke asked as if he hadn't heard her right the first time.

"Mhmm." She nodded, looking to him and Widget was beeping with laughter on her shoulder, pointing at Harriet's strange expression. "You said so yourself- each of them have their own skills, and as a team it makes them a lethal force that you don't want to mess with. If I only take one of them, it'll feel like I'm only taking with me a few pieces of a complete puzzle, and that's not going to help me at _all_ now is it?"

Sir Sumner chuckled at her reasoning and shook his head, putting his wide-brimmed hat back on. "The young lady certainly has a point, Mr. Burke…"

"Sounds like we're gonna have a fun time, baby doll." Glasgow gave her a mischievous wink that riddled goose bumps all over her body and made her face flush red and hot.

"_We're all __**fucked.**_" Is all that Harriet said as she pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from the breast plating of her armor, lighting it up to take a long and heavy drag.


	24. CHP 24: I Give You The Enemy

"_That's _your plan?" Butch exclaimed, throwing out a hand to Amata in disbelief. "_That's _what's gonna get shit to calm down around here?"

"Well what other option do we _have,_ Butch?" Amata yelled back, brushing her hair out of her defiant eyes. "Do _you_ even have any ideas?"

"I don't- but when I do, I'm _sure _that my idea will be a _hell _of a lot better than yours!"

"Both of you, stop it!" Old Lady Palmer stepped into the argument- her heavily wrinkled face twisted up so it looked even _more _wrinkled. "Fighting isn't going to get us anywhere! Butch, Amata is right- this is the best chance the Vault has for right now."

"So what are we going to do if the Overseer doesn't listen to her?" Susie interjected from her mattress on the far side of the room. Her legs were folded in front of her, the top of her Vault jumpsuit zipped down so the arms hung lazily at her hips, sprawled out on the dingy mattress.

"Well, this is his _daughter _he's talking to. I see no reason why he _wouldn't_ listen to her." The old woman replied.

"That bastard is nuttier than Beatrice!" Butch exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air. "He ain't gonna listen to his kid! Hell, he's probably only listenin' to the voices in his _head _right about now!"

"Look, I _know_ he's a little off his rocker right now Butch- and even though this idea doesn't sit right by you, I-… I'm just going to say it… _I __**honestly **__don't give a shit!_"

The Serpent King snapped his eyes to Amata in awe, just as the angry look in her face simmered down to one of slight concern. Not for him by any means, but for everyone else.

"And you know _why_ I don't give a shit? Because this idea works for everyone else, and because this idea is the best hope we have of leaving Vault 101. If it doesn't work, there's _always _another option… I don't know what that other option _is _right about now, but there _is _one."

"…We're really doing this?" Freddie piped up from the corner and everyone looked to him. He was gazing out the window of the clinic, staring into the bright fluorescent lights of the hallway in a trance-like state… And he had been doing that since Amata suggested that they leave the Vault and follow in Winona's (and her father's) footsteps. Everyone assumed that he was daydreaming about being with her again, because it took some effort to snap him out of it when he got like that. He looked over his shoulder at them. "Are we _really _going outside?"

"…Yeah, Freddie." Amata nodded and gave a small, meek smile. "I promise. We're gonna make it to the outside one day- even if it kills me."

"You're really serious about this, aren't you Amata?" Susie asked, hugging herself tightly.

"I am," She confirmed. "The Vault has gone to hell, guys. We're not going to be able to survive down here much longer- especially with what Lucy has told us," She motioned to Old Lady Palmer at her side. "She said this has been going on for _generations-_ since Vault 101 was sealed for the first time 200 years ago. For all we know, we could be distant cousins from one another because of all the inbreeding that has happened! We're eventually going to run out of food, we're _eventually _going to run out of fresh water because that Vault is down to its last water chip and it's… Well, it's not exactly _doing _so hot, guys. Plus, Stanley said that the Vault's reactor started _freaking out_ because of the stress of all the fires and explosions that have broken out everywhere. The effects of that are most _definitely _life-threatening!"

"So what are you going to say to him?" Christine asked, sitting up on her mattress, which was laid right next to Susie's.

"I'm going to tell him how we _all _feel about this. I know you guys think he's a little insane right now, but he's only trying to look out for the Vault's best interests- unfortunately he's just doing it the wrong way." She explained, looking at everyone in the clinic- Butch, Freddie, Susie, Christine, Old Lady Palmer… Dolly was gone for the moment _(thank God!)_, so they didn't have much in numbers. Oh, and Andy took shelter in the office. Freddie's dad just _had _to make a crack about Andy being made the new Vault Physician. Amata sincerely hoped that they would be able to convince her dad to open the Vault door before any more serious injuries occurred- like what had happened with Christine, or herself, from when Wally gave her a pretty intense beating.

"He _is _insane…"

"Shuddup, Butch." Susie scolded.

"We shouldn't waste any more time. I'll go to his office and speak to him- in the meantime, just sit tight here and keep yourselves occupied." Amata spoke as she walked to the door.

Everyone watched her leave, and the moment she was gone and walked down the hall towards the stairs did they look back and forth at one another.

"It's- It's kind of a scary thought… Going outside, I mean." Susie stated, rubbing her arms with her hands as she hugged herself. "What do you think it's going to be like?"

"Amazing…" Freddie murmured with a faraway smile coming to his face. Again, everyone knew he was daydreaming about Winona once again.

"It's going to be beautiful," Christine smiled as well, nodding to Susie. "There's going to be wind and sunlight and sky… There's going to be other _people,_ too! There's going to be so much more for us to learn out there, right?"

Susie nodded in agreement and couldn't help but smile as well.

"This old woman's going to stay down here," Old Lady Palmer chuckled, taking a seat at a desk that was propped in the corner to rest her ancient joints. "I'm too old to go outside. But I may come out just to stay by the entrance- just so I could see the sun for the first time…"

"It's gonna be awesome," Butch smirked, pulling out his switchblade, Toothpick, from his leather jacket pocket. "The Tunnel Snakes are gonna be the _coolest _gang out there!"

"Oh _great,_" Susie groaned. "And how did I see _this _coming?"

"Hey, don't make fun of the Tunnel Snakes, Mack." He cut his eyes to her sharply.

"It's just some _stupid _gang you've had since you were a teenager with my brother and Paul, Butch." She sneered. "I haven't seen Paul since the Vault went crazy, and Wally is trying to work for Amata's psycho _dad._ There's _no one __**else **_down here who wants to join up with you. Freddie isn't _that _stupid and- well… The only reason why Dolly's in the Tunnel Snakes is because _you're_ in it." She stated mercilessly.

"You're brother's a spineless prick who beat up Amata," He snarled at her. "He don't _deserve _to be a Tunnel Snake- and Paul's dead."

Christine and Susie gasped, and apparently it was enough of a wakeup call for Freddie to pull him out of whatever weird fantasies he was having about Winona. He snapped his eyes over to Butch with his jaw slack.

"Pau- Paul… Is _dead?_" Christine squeaked, her face paling.

"When did _this _happen?" Susie yelled, getting up from her mattress.

"He died a few days after Winona escaped," He dipped his head down and slid Toothpick back into his pockets, placing his rolled up fists in them as well. He _really _didn't want to talk about this. He turned to the door to take his leave.

"Wa- _Wait! __**Butch!**_" Susie cried, walking after him. "How did he die?"

"He was bitten up by Radroaches," He turned his head over his shoulder to glare at her. "Get the fuck off it, Mack."

"_Whoa!_ What the hell was _that _for?"

"Stop actin' like you actually _give_ a shit 'bout Paul!" He bellowed, pointing at her accusingly. "Cause I know for a straight up fact that you fuckin' _don't!_ You didn't see him die! You didn't see how bad those damned roaches got him! _He didn't die in your arms 'cause you weren't fuckin' __**fast enough **__to __**save **__him!"_

She stepped back in alarm, shoulders shaking, eyes snapped wide open, and she gave him a dumbfounded look.

"Bu- Butch… He… Paul- _died _in front of you?..."

Butch gave a low, throaty growl and turned to the door to leave.

"I've had enough of this shit," He murmured.

'_Cause no matter where I go- there's always someone who has a fuckin' problem with me…_

_**Winona…**_

_You never had a problem with me…_

_**Right?**_

As he walked into the hallway, he thought about it. He didn't know if Winona _ever _had a problem with him- most of the time his pranks didn't have the chance to be pulled off successfully because she would _always _stop them before they blossomed… But when there was an odd time or two that they _did _work and were directed at her, she'd simply shrug it off without a _single _word and continue on with what she was doing or would leave to clean herself up.

She never yelled at him. She never looked down at him… Never gave him that dirty look that made him feel like the smallest _fucking _thing in the universe at that moment.

Then his mind suddenly went around like a revolving door in his head, falling upon the night Dolly gave him a blowjob but he was imagining that it was Winona's doing. He could feel the blood rushing into his face.

_Fu- Fuck…_ Butch grimaced, running his hand over his gelled hair but made sure not to mess it up. _Fucking-… _He sighed. He didn't know how to make this out- how he always thought about Winona, how he had her picture in his pocket from when she was little… How he went into her apartment and cleaned all the wording off the wall with a heavy duty sponge and some strong cleaning chemicals. He didn't just scrub away Dolly's grease-written words, he scrubbed away whatever was there and fixed the furniture back into place so it looked _somewhat _decent even though all the lights were out and all the windows were smashed in. He slept in her room that night.

He wanted to believe that Winona's leaving wasn't affecting him- but every God damn _day _he was thinking about her. She was what he first thought of when he woke up in the late morning, and she was the last thing he thought of before drifting off to sleep to- once in a while- just dream about her _some more._

_What the __**fuck **__is happening to me?_ He popped up the collar of his jacket as he got to walking. _It's like I miss her or something._

That thought struck him harder than he thought it would, and it was a miracle he didn't land back flat on his ass.

_Nah, I don't miss her…_

Another hit.

_Don't I?_

A third hit.

_Okay, okay!_ He tried to reason with himself, but it felt like whatever he said was the wrong answer- it was conflicting with one part of him or another. He would say something and his heart would lie there, but his mind would scream at him that whatever he was saying was fucking _wrong,_ or he would say something that his mind agreed with but his heart screamed at him that he was a fucking dumbass.

Butch didn't know what to do with himself… He had been thinking about Winona ever since he left and he didn't know what to do about it.

And, for some reason, that realization left him colder than he ever thought could be humanly possible.

A loud scream ruptured through the hallway, causing Butch to freeze in place and gaze down the long corridor with wide, horrified eyes.

Well- at least whatever was about to happen next would keep his mind off her for a little bit…

-:-

"Aw, well isn't it my favorite little _punching bag?_" Wally snickered, stepping in Amata's way once she came to the office floor outside of her father's office with his hands on his hips.

"Get out of my way, Wally." Amata demanded sternly, praying that he middle Mack child couldn't see how her legs trembled under her. This was the boy who heartlessly beat her to a bloody mess for_ no_ apparent reason other than to be cruel… He knew he was a rude, obnoxious _jerk,_ but she _never _thought that he would actually resort to violence! And like she had mentioned, for no damn good _reason!_

"So the punching back is telling _me _what to do?" He grinned down at her, leaning forward ever so slightly so he was almost at eye level with her. "Did 'ya come back for _another _ beating?"

"_I came here to speak with my father_," She hissed through clenched teeth. "_Or did you forget that my dad is the Overseer?_"

"I didn't forget," He answered smugly, moving out of the way for her to pass by. "I just know that you won't tell him a damn thing,"

"And what makes you think _that? _What makes you think that I _won't _tell my dad that you beat me to the point that my _arm _was broken?"

"Because you _never _do… You _never _tell daddy anything." He murmured, grin deepening to a maniacal level that made her blood run cold. She stomped past him, and only when she was a few paces ahead of him and almost to the door of her father's office, did he call out to her.

"_He's not going to say __**yes **__to you, you know…_"

Amata spun around to stare at him with wide, horrified eyes.

"How- _How did you-?..._"

"Amata, there you are."

She spun back around to see her father standing in the doorway of his office with his hands folded behind his back. He had a warm smile on his face and stepped towards her, offering his hand.

"Wally told me you had a little accident and fell down a flight of stairs," He frowned. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to come see you in the clinic, I've been busy trying to get everything straightened out down here… But I see you're doing exceptionally well despite your injuries. I hope Andy took good care of you."

"A- Actually, this happened before Andy became Vault physician…" She murmured, staring at the floor. _So Wally already told him I was injured and __**lied **__about how I got them… I wonder if dad would believe me if I told him the truth?_ "Old Lady Palmer helped me."

"Hmn… Interesting," Her father murmured with slight amusement in his eyes. "I should _really _speak with her. Those who are not qualified doctors should _not _be trying to help injured parties!"

_Andy isn't exactly medically educated __**either **__and __**you **__still made him Vault Physician…_ She looked up at him dubiously.

As her father continued rambling with a hovering arm around her shoulders, which reeked of _anything _but fatherly affection, Amata looked over her shoulder and her father's arm at Wally. The grin was still plastered on his face as he leaned against one of the nearby metal desks. He tapped a foot on the floor, over a dark spot that seemed to be inlaid in the smooth metal…

And something clicked in her head.

That dark spot looked familiar… She had seen it before, but it was-… It was _different _when she last saw it.

That dark spot looked like it was poorly cleaned.

That dark spot looked like it was tacky and red once.

That dark spot looked like it was blood once.

That dark spot looked like it was Jonas' blood once.

That dark spot was where Jonas had _died… __**Beaten to death by her father's men.**_

_And who __**gave**__ those orders to have Jonas killed and for __**no **__good reason?_ She wondered, looking back to her father with a calculating expression tugging at her features. _What if he did the same to me?... He directed Stevie to "interrogate" me about Winona… What if he asked Wally to do the same and Wally took it a step too __**far?**_

Amata looked back at Wally.

He was still grinning.

_Then he wouldn't be here with my father… __**Would he?**_

Another thought clicked into her head.

_But what if Wally did it __**just **__right?..._

"He- Hey, uh-… _dad?_" Amata croaked, causing her father to stop his rambling-turned-complaining about Overseer duties. "Can I-… Can I talk to you about something that's _really _important?"

"Of course, Amata. What is it?" He closed the door behind them.

She shifted her weight from foot to foot uncomfortably, staring at the floor and bit her lip… But when Winona flashed into her head, smiling and waving and calling for her to come to the cafeteria for lunch, it gave her strength- and when she saw Widget cupped in her hands, sleeping and rolling around so cutely like she had remembered, it returned to her the determination she needed.

"Well," She looked straight into her father's eyes. "_It's about __**Winona- **__and it's about the residents of our Vault…_"

-:-

"_Butch! __**Help me!**_" Dolly cried as she ran down the hallway towards him with tears streaming down her face, ruining her makeup in watery streams. Once she got to him she gripped his arm, trying to tug him back to the clinic. "It- It's my dad! He's trying to _kill _me!"

"_What?_" Butch gawked at her, finding it very hard to believe. Sure, he knew the guy had an angry streak longer and wider than his own- he had threatened Doctor Parker when his wife- Dolly's mother- tried convincing him to have an _affair _with her. The guy wouldn't want to kill his own kid… _Would he?..._

"_**DOROTHY!**_"

…Butch took that back.

He froze in place with Dolly tensing up at his side, her face turning pale under all her running and ruined makeup. She tugged on his arm again.

"_C'mon, Butch… __**Please…**_" She pleaded in a hoarse, nasally whisper and began to hiccup as she talked because she was crying so hard. "He- He's been dri- drinking again, and h- he's pissed with me…"

"What'd you do _now _that set him off?" He asked harshly, never taking his eyes off the long hallway where her father's yells echoed from.

"H- He… Doesn't like th- that I'm with you- you guys…" She swallowed hard after a few hiccups. "M- My mom agrees wi- with him…"

"Wait- _you guys?_" Butch finally looked back at her. "Whaddya mean _"you guys?_"

"He-… He calls everyone in the clinic "Rebels…" He sa- says that we're bad peo- people for wanting to open the Vault… He says we're a- all gonna b- bu- burn in he- hell…" She hiccupped, slapping at her face with the back of her hand to wipe her tears away.

_Rebels…_ He looked back to the hallway just as Dolly's father, Daniel, rounded the corner. Stumbling and cursing to himself and _obviously _drunk, he was red in the face and his eyes looked droopy. _Rebels… _

_Wait- are __**we **__the bad guys down here?_ He suddenly thought in alarm.

"_**There **__you are, __**Dorothy!**_" Her father yelled- no, _boomed _at the end of the hallway, pointing his bottle of beer at her. Some splashed out onto the floor. He was a man that was below the average height and _way _above the average weight. Short and stout, he was balding and had the face of a pug. Butch had to admit, Dolly's mom was kinda pretty, but sometimes princesses _really_ shouldn't take the "kiss a frog to find my prince" thing so seriously…

"Da- Dad!" Dolly exclaimed fearfully, still cowering behind Butch. "We- We _aren't _that bad guys here!" She exclaimed. "We just wanna get out and live our lives!"

"_**You can live a PERFECT life down HERE!**_" He roared, heaving his beer bottle.

"_Hey!_" Butch exclaimed, holding his arms up in front of his face to protect himself as the bottle came hurdling towards him. It connected with his forearm, sending pain sprawling up his arm at the force before it went tumbling to the floor and shattered at his feet. Beer splashed up onto his boots and flecked his jumpsuit with dark spots.

"Butch! Butch are you _okay?_" Dolly asked worriedly, gripping his arm tighter. "Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine," He growled, lowering his arm to glare at her father as he pulled out his switchblade. "Just get to the clinic."

"_No!_" She grabbed the back of his jacket. "I'm not leaving you!"

"_Dorothy Horowitz, you get your scrawny behind back to our apartment or so God __**help **__you-!_"

"That is _quite _enough out of you, Mr. Horowitz."

Butch and Dolly turned their heads to see Mr. Brotch standing behind them with his hands on his hips sternly- like he always had them when he was scolding Butch… It was nice to see him take on that stance while scolding someone _else _for a change.

"Leave _now,_ and I won't have to deal with you myself." Mr. Brotch warned, stepping forward so he was in front of Butch and Dolly with his feet firmly planted apart. "I will _not _have you bringing harm to _any _of my students, especially if one of them happens to be your child. Dolly has done _nothing _wrong here. She is simply fighting for what she believes in."

Butch looked at Mr. Brotch for the first time- and by this, he meant _really _looked… This guy, his teacher since he was about five or six up until about a year ago when he enrolled in the barber program, who made it _very _clear that he did not _like_ him nor will he _ever _like him… Was defending him?

…Why did it sound so surprising, yet so _unsurprising _at the same time?

So as Mr. Brotch and Daniel Horowitz had a glare-down, Daniel finally growled out in defeat and turned to punch the corridor wall before stalking off. The dark-skinned teacher let out a sigh of relief and turned back to the two young adults.

"You kids alright?"

They both nodded.

"Good," He gave a pleased smile. "I was worried he was going to come over here and hurt one of you… He looks like he could certainly kill _me _in one punch. C'mon- let's get you two back to the clinic."

They began to turn around and walk.

"Tha- Thanks… For gettin' rid of my old man. He's an ass when he's at the bottom of a bottle…"

"I know," Mr. Brotch chuckled. "I've seen it before- many times before you were born. Would you believe that he was actually _worse _back then?"

"No…" She shook her head and looked up at him. "What did you mean by I was fightin' for what I believe in? Whaddya mean by _that?_"

He stared at her with wide eyes of surprise. "You-… Don't know?"

"Know what?" Butch interrupted. "You know something _we _don't, teach?"

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well… The Vault residents are starting to segregate everyone."

"Se-gre-gate?..." Dolly had to sound it out. It was obvious she had never heard the word before and, therefore, didn't know its definition.

"It means that the Vault residents are separating themselves into different sides. _A lot_ of people are getting pretty riled up by what you kids want to do with that door."

"We just wanna open it and get the fuck outta here," Butch grimaced. "Amata thinks it's a good idea 'cause she thinks the Vault needs to _grow _'er somethin' and let other people in… She thinks that whatever supplies old Stanley needs to fix the reactor and whatever can be found outside, but she ain't too sure."

"Oh, I see." Mr. Brotch rubbed his chin in thought. "That's actually not a bad idea… The Vault _does _need to expand or else we'll die out."

"She said that too," Butch nodded. "So why is everyone breakin' up down here?"

"Because there are the people- like you kids- that think that opening the door is a _grand _idea. Then there are people who are completely against getting it open. The ones who don't want to leave the Vault call themselves "true Vault residents," and refer to _anyone _who wants to get the door open as Rebels."

"That's fuckin' _stupid!_" Dolly exclaimed.

Their teacher shrugged. "That's just how it is now, Miss Horowitz… _That's __**just **__how it is…_" He looked at the clinic. "But at least all this trouble on the home front is keeping everyone's mind off of the body count…"

-:-

A few hours later, Amata returned to the clinic with a blank look on her face and her shoulders hung low. She undid her hair from its clip so it draped over her shoulders and she shook it out as she stepped into the clinic, bypassing everyone who stood around her or sat on the floor, waiting for an answer from her father.

"Amata?" Old Lady Palmer called and grabbed her shoulder. "Sweetheart- what's wrong?"

"He-… Wally… He was outside. He told me my dad was going to say no…" She shook her head and looked up at everyone with tears in her eyes.

"Wait- my _brother _was there? What _for?_" Susie cired.

"I- I don't know… He was just _there,_ smiling at me when I walked in and when I walked out… My dad knew about my injuries. Wally told him I fell down a flight of stairs and he-… He _believed _him."

"What did your father say, Amata?" Mr. Brotch asked from the corner. She snapped her eyes to him in surprise.

"M- Mr. Brotch!"

He smiled at her. "Whatever you kids are fighting for, I'm with 'ya. But you need to tell us what your father said about opening up the door."

"…He said no." She was met back by a symphony of startled gasps. "And he's putting the Vault on permanent lock-down and is refusing _any _requests to leave the Vault no matter _what _the reason is, and-…"

"_And-?_ And _what?_" Butch pressed.

The Vault's intercom system suddenly chimed, signaling that the Overseer had an important announcement.

"_**Attention all residents of Vault 101. It has come to my attention that some of you **_**wish **_**to leave this safe haven to follow after Doctor James Parker and his traitor daughter, Winona. This is **_**not **_**an option- for **_**any **_**of you. It is not a **_**good **_**option and it is not a **_**safe **_**option. As Overseer, I am sworn to look over the wellbeing of every resident in the Vault, and that also includes you **_**Rebels **_**who have thrown away the privilege that you were given of comfort and safety in this Vault. As of right now, I will deny any and **_**all **_**requests for the door to be opened. **_**No one **_**is to be let in, or to be let out. The door will be under heavy guard and any of you who try to come within the front room of the Vault will be **_**shot **_**by the security team I have stationed at the door. For those of you who remain loyal to Vault 101, please report to me for job reassignments. For those of you who wish to **_**rebel…**_** Well, you know where the Rebels are hiding out. This is your Overseer, signing off.**_"

"…_He's made __**us **__the __**enemy…**__"_ Amata finally whispered.


	25. CHP 25: Adventure in Andale PART 1

**A/N: Hey guys! Hope you're up bright and early this Saturday morning because I am up MUCH earlier than I would have liked to be :D! Yay!**

**Anyways- I decided that because I was up so early, I'd get posting done instead of doing it later on tonight. I'm out on the road with the family, and with all the driving around we've done I've had enough time to clean up chapters and whatnot for an early morning post. I'm sorry about last week! I wasn't happy with how it came out, and because it bothered me so much I kept rewriting and rewriting till I was somewhat content with it... And in truth, I know I could have done better D: I HOPE MY INSPIRATION HAS NOT ABANDONED ME! T_T**

**For those of you watching Back in the Black Bayou, a new chapter will not be posted until the 27th of this month (Tuesday) so a full week can pass before the new chapter. Sorry for any of you who were looking forward to a posting of that story today!**

**But all that aside- here's the new chapter for A Trial of Risk and Fall- and I hope you enjoy :D (Note: This is part one of this chapter. The next part will be posted next week)**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>"It's getting dark," Glasgow pointed out as his walk slowly came to a halt. "We should set up camp for the night and keep goin' in the morning."<p>

"Not in the open," Harriet hissed, tilting her head to the side to crack her neck before rolling it. "Someone's gonna see us out here, and we're gonna be royally _fucked _in the dark."

"Harriet is right. Winona's safety is our first priority- her safety is held above our own." Sir Sumner nodded his head, stopping alongside his two other companions.

In the dim lighting of the lowering sun, their black armor glinted in Winona's lavender eyes. They had changed into them before they left the tower this morning, claiming that it was their "work uniforms." Someone from the tower said that the armor made them look like the Talon Company- whoever _they _were…

"Now _wait _a minute," Winona interjected, upon realizing what the three were talking about. She stepped up to them with Widget following. "Your safety is _not _above mine! You should all make sure to take care of yourselves, too!"

"The reason why we were hired by Burke was to take care of _you._ I _certainly _don't wanna be the one to limp back to him and tell him that you got nailed by a slaver party and I felt that I should have saved my fine ass instead of yours," Harriet snapped. "I'm gonna die either way."

"What my hot-headed cohort is _trying _to explain," Sir Sumner added on quickly, shooting blunt daggers at Harriet. "We work for Burke, and he has explained to us that we must keep you safe at _all _costs. We will make sure to look after ourselves as well, but if any of us were to be put in danger, we would turn our attention to _you _first."

Widget beeped at them, shaking one of her front legs at them like an old man would when kids were playing in his front lawn.

"I don't think your little bug thing likes it too much, either," Glasgow smirked, folding his arms over his chest and turned to Sir Sumner. "So old man, whaddya got on that map of yours? Anything nearby that we can camp out in?"

At the mention of a map, Sir Sumner opened up a small pouch on the belt of his armor and pulled out a piece of paper folded over many times. He opened it up in moments, showing a large and tattered piece of paper that had markings dotted along all over it.

"If I am correct, we are about here-" He pointed down at the map for Glasgow. "Which means that there is a town nearby. _Andale._"

"Did you ever scout there?" Glasgow asked, looking in the direction they were probably going to walk. Widget flittered over to the map, peeking at it from over the edge to chitter in fascination at all the map markers- studying it but not really understanding what any of it meant.

"Not I, no." Sir Sumner shook his head and followed Glasgow's eyes in the same direction as well. Harriet came up behind them to take a look at the map.

"Says here it's inhabited," She noted gruffly, looking up to the old man. "Doesn't say if the inhabitants are hostile are not."

"Should we just take a detour and circle it, in that case?" Glasgow questioned, looking up to see Winona sit down on a nearby boulder and fan at her sweaty face, blowing her damp silvery bangs out of her eyes. As Harriet and Sir Sumner continued talking, Widget came flittering over to plop down in her lap and roll onto her back, sticking her metal tongue out of her mouth as if she were dying. The inventor chuckled and cupped the bug in her hands, nuzzling her nose into Widget's stomach to tickle her. Glasgow smiled a little, continuing to watch the two play.

"Hey, dumbshit- get your head out of your fucking ass," Harriet smacked the back of his head, causing his glasses to go askew on his nose, and he glared blunt daggers at her. "Care to rejoin the conversation?"

"Shut up before I _gut _you like a Brahmin and drag you across the Capital by your insides," He hissed.

"Alright you two, calm yourselves." Sir Sumner warned cautiously. "Bickering isn't going to help us decide whether or not to visit this town. If the map does not say that they are hostile, than the inhabitants are not."

"But what if they are and the records that got put into your map were fucked?" Harriet asked, brows furrowing down over her eye and eye patch. "If you didn't scope it, I don't trust it."

"Don't you have a cave logged down on that map of yours?" Glasgow asked, tilting his head down to look at the map from over the rim of his sunglasses. "Or a metro tunnel we could bunk in?"

"We'd have one _hell_ of a fucking time clearing the place out before we can set camp- plus, all the traps we gotta lay out for any _unwanted _pricks." Harriet pointed out.

"Who's to say this Andale place isn't full of unwanted pricks?" Glasgow snapped. "Are we just gonna stand here and argue until it gets dark or are we just gonna make a decision?"

"Andale is our best option for right now." Sir Sumner spoke as he began folding up the map in his possession. "We will need to perform reconnaissance on the area before entering the perimeter. There is a high ridge to the south entrance of the town, we will be able to observe the inhabitants from up there."

"Leave that to me," Glasgow grinned, patting the sniper rifle he had shouldered affectionately.

"Then I suppose that settles it." The old man nodded, glancing over to Winona who had pulled out one of Gizmo's legs to tweak the joint of it. "Miss Parker,"

"Hmn?" She muttered, having a screwdriver trapped between her teeth as she used a wrench to tighten a loose bolt on the joint. Widget sat on her shoulder, contentedly chewing on a screw.

"We have made plans as to where we are resting tonight. Would you like another few moments to rest before we continue?"

"Mnfmm-" She muttered again, removing the screw driver from her mouth to put it in her lap along with Gizmo's leg. "I'm ready when you are. I'd just like some water first, please."

"Course, doll." Glasgow smiled, walking towards her and removed a water canteen that was tied to the outside of his bag. He twisted off the cap and handed it to her. "So whatcha workin' on?"

"Another companion of mine," She panted once she took a gulp of water and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "He'll sort of be like Widget- but _bigger._ I'm modeling him after a wolf."

"A wolf, huh? They kinda look like dogs don't they?"

"Mhmm," She nodded. "I have a picture somewhere that I'd be _happy _to show you…" She turned to her bag to pull it out, but Harriet stepped forward with an aggravated look in her eyes.

"You can play show-and-tell _later,_ kiddies. We gotta go before it gets any darker and we won't know where the _fuck _we're going. The Wasteland is a hell of a lot more dangerous at night- especially when we've got someone with us who's raider-bait."

"Ra- Raider-bait?..." Winona murmured with her silvery brows furrowed together, and she looked up to Glasgow. "Does she mean me? What does that even mean?"

"…That's a little hard to explain," He answered meekly, obviously knowing the answer to her question but withholding the information from her.

"It means that if we're attacked by raiders, they're gonna fuck you, torture you to within an inch of your life, fuck you some more, and then kill you. Simple as that."

Winona stared at Harriet with wide eyes. "Wha- _What?_"

"Harriet, shut the hell up," Glasgow barked.

"No, Glasgow Harriet is right- in her own predictably _vulgar _way. Miss Parker must be educated of the threats that she faces now that she has entered the Capital Wasteland." Sir Sumner shook his head as he stepped forward, kneeling down at Winona's side. "Miss Parker, have you encountered raiders before?"

"Ye- Yeah…" She murmured and nodded, then began to absentmindedly caress her side. "I got shot by one… Shotgun. Didn't even notice until I collapsed and passed out. That's how I met Mr. Burke- he found me and took me to a doctor." She explained.

"What Harriet has said is true, I'm sorry to say. Raiders are known for raping, torturing, killing mercilessly, slaving, and raiding- as that is how they received their name."

"What do I do if we come across some?" She asked.

"Do not worry about that. For now, let us go to Andale to rest for the night." He straightened up.

"No! I-… I wanna _help._ I wanna know how I can be useful to you guys." She declared, putting her tools and her gadgets away as Widget helped herself to another screw from one of the outer pockets. "I don't want to just run and hide if we get attacked by someone or something. Tell me what to do so I can help you- enemies won't be the only dangers we'll face if I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean?" Glasgow asked, taking the water canteen back from her and tied it to his bag.

"I mean that if I'm fumbling around, having _no _clue what I'm supposed to do when we get into a fight, it could put the rest of you in danger. It could get you killed, hurt, or _worse._ I need-… I need experience. I need to learn- and you three are the best of the best, aren't you?"

"Well, we wouldn't say _that_ Miss Parker…" Sir Sumner answered modestly.

"You have more experience than I could ever hope to get," She pointed out. "So as far as I see, you three are the best teachers I can get."

"She's right. It's just us now," Harriet agreed, much to everyone's surprise. "We need to teach her how to take care of herself in a fight."

"Sounds good," Glasgow nodded, turning back to Winona and gave a lop-sided smirk. "Don't worry, doll. You're in _good _hands." He winked behind his sunglasses, and the devilish trait that leaked into his smile caused the little inventor to tense in place on the boulder with her face beaming bright red.

Harriet elbowed him in the back of his head with an arched brow. "Don't give the princess nightmares, dumbshit."

**-:-**

"What do you have, Glasgow?" Sir Sumner asked, looking to Glasgow who lay on his stomach in the dirt with his sunglasses perched on his head, peering down the sight of his sniper rifle.

"Kids," He answered, a cloud of dust billowing up in front of his face as he slowly exhaled.

"Yeah, and I wonder what _else_ you got from the bitches you nailed back when you were with the raiders." Harriet interjected, trying to fix her combat shotgun. They came across a molerat while going up the ridge to do RECON on Andale, and when she tried to shoot the animal her gun jammed. Needless to say, the molerat saw them and came running, but once Harriet began her long string of angry cursing in a roar, it ran away with its stumpy leg between its tail.

"A word of advice, Harriet- if you're gonna be a smartass, you have to be smart first. Otherwise you're just being an ass." He replied in a nonchalant tone, turning back from his sniper scope to look up to Sir Sumner. "Like I said, there are kids down there. Two of 'em. A little boy and girl, playing in the streets between the houses. There's a house on the right hand side, and two more on the left hand side of the street. There's no other buildings there that seem accessible. They're either boarded up or caved in on themselves."

"Are there any adults around?"

"Not that I've seen," He shook his head and looked back into the scope. "Oh, wait- there's an old man coming out of one of the houses on the left. He's pointing at the other houses and telling the kids something… They're both going inside. Boy went into the house on the right, girl went into the second house on the left- and the fossil's just _standing _there, now…"

"He's not doing anything?" Sir Sumner asked, kneeling down at Glasgow's side with his elbow on his knee.

"Well he's _staring _at something, but I can't see what it is- it's too dark, and I think it's hidden by one of the houses so I can't see it from where I am. He's going back to his house no- wait, someone came out of one of the houses. Bald guy in a red shirt. Baldie just stopped the fossil to tell him something… They look like they're arguing. Fossil's pointing at something, don't know what it is- could be what he was staring at earlier."

"Do they look like they're gonna blow our asses into the pavement if we go down there?" Harriet asked, coming up behind the two of them.

"Other than the two that are arguing - no, not really. But that's only because I haven't seen anyone else but the two kids, Baldie and the fossil." He pulled back from his sniper rifle and rolled onto his elbow. "But _all _of them are wearing… Well, Pre-War clothing." He shrugged.

"Pre-War clothing?" Winona asked as she came up the ridge to them with Widget in tow. The little bug bot sailed over and landed on Sir Sumner's head, pulling at some strands of his long, grey hair while chirping playfully. He smiled up at it meekly, looking unsure of what to do with her.

"Uh- yeah, doll." Glasgow sat up and nodded at her. His sunglasses slid down from his head to his nose, hiding his eyes despite the fact that it was almost night time. "What about it?"

"I dunno… It's just interesting." She crouched down at his side with her elbows on her knees. She looked to his sniper rifle. "Can-… Can I see?" She pointed at it.

"Sure thing," He turned over and picked it up, handing it to her. She let out a small gasp of surprise at feeling how heavy the weapon was- completely unsuspecting of its weight.

"_Whoa!_ How many _pounds _does this weigh? _Fifteen?_"

"You're close- it's ten, actually." He laughed as she shouldered the weapon as best she could, considering she didn't know how to actually _hold _it so she was copying something similar to what Glasgow did. He watched her with some amusement in his eyes, and he looked over the rim of his sunglasses to watch her better as she looked down the scope.

"Hmn… That's weird," She pulled back and turned her head so she was looking up at Sir Sumner and Harriet. "Don't you think?"

"What's weird, princess?" Harriet asked, pulling out her crumpled pack of cigarettes from a pocket on her belt.

"I'm not exactly _experienced _out here, but if you were thinking about hurting anyone you'd wear armor… Wouldn't you?" She looked down to the leather armor she wore. It was really tight, and pretty much made her sweat into her socks, but Sir Sumner stated it would give better protection than her tattered Vault suit could. "I mean that you wouldn't want to give the enemy the upper hand in a fight by wearing clothes like that. It's just fabric- it's not going to protect them from anything."

"Hmn… She's gotta point," Glasgow got to his feet. "But it doesn't exactly make them _vulnerable._ I know their type- trynna look all sweet and defenceless when in truth their packin' some _serious _heat." He looked down to the town from their spot on the ridge. "Bet you ten caps one of them is packing a scoped .44."

"You're on," Harriet chuckled.

"A .44? You mean a .44 magnum?" Winona asked, scratching her head. "Oh! Like what Charles had?"

"_Had?_" Sir Sumner inquired.

"Uh, yeah…" She rubbed the back of her head. "I, um-… Threw it off the balcony."

"…And the old man's going out on a limb to keep her safe _why?_" Harriet grimaced, throwing an exasperated hand to her. "I'm surprised he didn't fucking _kill _her right then and there!"

"Well, given the circumstances…" Her voice trailed off, and when their eyes snapped back to her in question, she realized that it was best _not _to say that she killed Mr. Tenpenny- just in case they didn't know. If they did, they would have asked her… Right?

"Never mind." She finished quietly and looked back down the scope. "But it looks like everyone went back inside their houses. There's no one outside, anymore."

"So what's the plan? We circle 'round or go down there?" Harriet asked, growling when she looked into her crumpled cigarette pack and found it empty. Her fist tightened around it and she threw it over her shoulder.

"I've got a few packs in my bag- you can have them." Winona muttered, not even looking up from the scope. "I found out that some vendors pay a lot of caps for cartons of cigarettes. I collect a whole bunch of packs to make a carton and turn them in to get more money." She explained, already feeling the question stares boring into the back of her skull. They probably all thought that she actually _smoked_ for a second, there.

"Uh… Thanks," She murmured, wading down the rift to raid Winona's bag for her newly claimed and beloved cigarettes.

"So what do you think, Sumner?" Glasgow asked, folding his arms over his chest. He looked up to the old man and tried not to grin. "…I'm sorry, old man- I can't take you seriously with that thing on your head."

Widget beeped at the ex-raider angrily, shaking a fist and he stepped back in awe as it flittered off Sir Sumner's head and went up into his face to rap him on the nose.

"_Ow!_" He exclaimed, swatting at it. Sir Sumner watched him chase after the robot, looking as if he were doing a funny dance as he sort of hopped around in place, trying to grab at her.

"I must say, Glasgow. I cannot take you _seriously_ when you dance like that," He chuckled and shook his head.

"_Dance _like what?" He stopped in place to look back at him, at which time Widget sailed over and grabbed his sun glasses, escaping with them. "_Hey!_ Give those back!" He chased after Widget again. "Or I _swear _I'll melt you down and turn you into rounds for my rifle!"

"It appears that no one has asked _you_ what you think we should do," Sir Sumner knelt down at Winona's side as Glasgow continued chasing Widget in the background- yelling that he'd melt her down and turn her into different items like tin cans and silverware. Harriet came up over the ridge with a cigarette between her lips- which dropped to the ground as she hunched over, laughing and pointing at Glasgow.

"What do you mean? You guys are the experts here," She set Glasgow's sniper rifle in her lap and looked up to him.

"Compared to you, we are." He nodded in agreement and looked down at Andale. "But that is beside the point, Miss Parker. If you are to gain experience in the Wasteland, you must make choices that may not only affect just yourself, but a small number of people. Good or bad, experience is experience as long as you learn something valuable from it."

Winona began to smile and brushed her bangs out of her face. "You know, for a moment there-… You sounded like my dad. That sounds like something he'd say to me in a situation like this."

"Your father sounds like a very wise man," He commented. "I can't wait to meet him."

"I hope we find him… And he's okay- like, he's not sick or injured or- or _worse…_" She chewed on her bottom lip. "That is the _worst _possible thing I can imagine right now…"

"Doll! Tell your damned wind-up toy to give me back my shades!" Glasgow pleaded, still chasing Widget, who was flying towards the two on the ridge. The robot dropped his sunglasses on her head, pushing them into place so they were on her face, settled on the very tip of her nose, and she flew away to hide somewhere. Winona giggled and stood up as Glasgow stopped in front of her, hunched over onto his knees to take a moment to breathe.

"I'm sorry about that- Widget's a little troublemaker… Likes pulling pranks, breaking stuff- _'ya know._" She took off his sunglasses and handed it to him. "If she bothers you again, just let me kno-" Her words hitched in her throat and her eyes widened when they fell upon his face. It was the first time she had seen the ex-raider without his sunglasses, and she was absolutely _stunned._

Her assumptions about his eyes were correct. They were sharp, just like the rest of his features, but what she _wasn't _expecting was that they'd be a really intense shade of icicle blue. It felt like he was peering into her, searching through the housing of her body as if he could read her mind.

"…What?" He murmured as he put his sunglasses back on.

"N- Nothing…" She answered quietly, handing him back his sniper rifle. She walked past him. "You- You should wear your sunglasses less."

"What for?" He asked as he stared at the weapon in his possession, before turning his eyes up to watch her walk away.

"Because…" Winona stopped and looked back at him. "You have really nice eyes," And then turned back to walk away. Widget came out of her hiding place once the inventor walked past it, which was a little rock, and she followed after her.

Glasgow stood in place, a silly grin leaking into his face as Sir Sumner walked towards him briskly and grabbed his shoulder.

"Do not even _think _about it, Glasgow."

"_What?_" He asked in an irritated tone, and looked back at the old man. "I didn't think_ anything!_"

"She's just a child." He hissed. "And if I hear that you have so much as _looked _at her with that damned smile of yours, the bullet I put through your skull will be the _last _thing you never see."

"Okay, okay!" Glasgow shouldered his sniper rifle. "Yeesh- you're gonna give yourself a heart attack, 'ya old geezer… I _know_ she's a kid- I wasn't thinking about doing _anything_ to her- but a man can't help but notice a pretty woman…"

"_Girl._ She is still but a girl, hell-bent on finding her father." Sir Sumner corrected him as he walked past. "So that is all the more reason for you not to attempt anything with her in her obvious state of distress, Glasgow. _Remember what I said._"

"_Yeah, yeah, yeah… The last thing I __**never **__see…_" He muttered uncaringly, waving a dismissive hand to the old man despite the fact that he was already leaving. He looked back down at Andale. "_Why does __**everyone**__ think I'll bang __**anything **__that's capable of wearin' a skirt?..._" He muttered to himself before turning and skidding down the ridge to meet up with the others.


	26. CHP 26: Adventure in Andale PART 2

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm sorry I've been away for so long D: Needed a break from fanfiction, you know? Hit a pretty thick brick wall for some of my Fallout 3 stories and needed a little time off to collect my thoughts and relax my mind- if I didn't, I wouldn't have been able to bring you guys some good chapters!**

**I hope this chapter came out okay... The story isn't perfect, but I didn't realize how bad it was until I took a very good look at Winona and saw that she was a little... undeveloped. She seems too 2-D for me, she's not a rounded character. In any case, I may put this story on hiatus for a bit to reinvent her character and then come back in a few weeks to keep going.**

**Anyways, I'll stop babbling now xD Enjoy!**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>"Doll, stay behind me."<p>

Winona did as she was told and stepped behind Glasgow with Widget riding on her backpack strap, pulled taut over her shoulder. Harriet walked a few steps ahead of Glasgow and Sir Sumner stood at Winona's side, eyes darting around this way and that with a gleaming sharpness in them- and it reminded her of the eagles she used to see in books back in the Vault. She looked up to the night sky- little wisps of clouds drifted through the cool night air amongst the flecks of stars that paved the dark tarmac of the sky.

"There's the entrance-" Harriet declared, stopping and looking back at them. "This place is like the fucking poster town for Shit City. Who the hell would live out here?" She looked at the housing over her shoulder. "There's no defenses, nothing- and they've got kids here."

"What do _you_ care about the kids?" Glasgow asked with a grin.

She snarled at him. "Don't think I fucking give a flying giant-rat's ass about some snot-nosed _brats._"

"Or what?" He chuckled.

"Would you two at least _attempt _getting along?" Sir Sumner asked with a slight furrow of his brows. "Can you even get on with your day without trying to rip each other's throats out?"

The two looked at each other, shrugged, and looked back at him.

"No." Glasgow answered.

"_Hell_ no!" Harriet followed.

Sir Sumner sighed and looked to Winona.

"…I'm sorry for telling Charles to let me bring them as well." She apologized with a light shrug.

The old man smiled. "No need to apologize, Miss Parker. You were right in bringing them. Although they fight a lot, they have learned to put aside their differences in the heat of battle with the enemy. They've come to be a very lethal duo in my opinion."

"What are we doin' now?" Glasgow quipped. "You wanna just walk on in? We're gonna get our asses handed to us if these people think we're just sneaking into their turf."

"So you wanna knock on their door and get _permission?_" Harriet rolled her good eye. "Why don't you ask if they can shove their gun barrel up your ass and blow you all the way to God damned _China_ while you're at it?"

"It's 7:12," Winona looked at her Pip-Boy. "They should still be awake."

"I was being _sarcastic,_ princess." She barked. "Who the fuck actually _gives_ a shit about these dumbfucks? They don't have any protection, their town's free to _anyone_ who comes wondering by- and right now they're up against three armed and skilled guards and a prissy little Vault brat."

"_Hey!_" Winona cried in offense. Widget growled on her shoulder and she darted for Harriet. The inventor quickly grabbed for her wings and pulled her back, keeping her in the cage of her cupped together hands. She buzzed about, throwing her metal body against Winona's palms in an effort to get out before she finally calmed down to annoyed chitters and angry clicks.

"Face it," Harriet stepped up to her, hissing through clenched teeth. "You say you wanna pull your weight in the group, but you've got _nothing _to pull if you don't even know how to use a fucking _gun_ properly, and _we _always need to watch out for you."

"Harriet that is _enough,_" Sir Sumner stepped between the two young women with a fierce look on his weathered face. "We are supposed to _protect_ her, not attack her verbally. You cannot put her at fault if she is inexperienced, especially because it is something we can remedy. Over time she will gain the skills she needs and we will not have to watch her and worry over her all the time."

"What the hell crawled up _your_ ass? A pointy stick?" Glasgow grimaced. "Seriously Harriet, what the actual fuck?"

"She's gonna turn into every slaver's wet _dream_ if she can't protect herself," She shouldered her combat shotgun briskly. "We can't watch over her _all_ the time."

"We can still _try!_" He boomed.

"Why bother trying at _all_ if they're just going to run away in the end? Why trust people you only just _met_ when they promised to protect me and keep me safe, and-" Her eye widened and she growled, turning her head away sharply.

His eyebrows raised up as his eyes widened behind his sunglasses. "O- Oh shit. Harriet-"

"_Shut the __**fuck **__up_," She snarled.

"Harriet, it is alright. We are simply concerned… But I think we can see who is the most concerned out of all of us." Sir Sumner spoke in a gentle, soothing tone, and he clapped a hand down on Harriet's shoulder. Winona could have just been imagining things, but she thought she saw her _flinch._

_What was __**that **__all about?..._ She wondered.

A light flicked on in front of one of the houses, and the front door swung open.

"_Who's out there?_" A cracked, aged voice cried out into the night.

"_Get the fuck down!_" Harriet whispered in a hiss. She grabbed Winona and pulled her into a nearby garbage heap while Glasgow ducked to one of the other houses, pressing his body flat against the wall. Sir Sumner crouched down behind a big blue mailbox.

"_What's going on? Why are we hiding?"_ Winona whispered, Widget fluttering out of her hands in all the commotion to hide under a tattered book for cover as she peeked out.

"_Shh!_" Harriet clamped a filthy hand over her thin lips. Winona looked up into her good eye. "_Just- __**stay quiet**__._"

She nodded and Harriet removed her hand, glancing over to Sir Sumner across the street and Glasgow who stood further than that. She made a few hand motions, as if trying to communicate something to the both of them, and they both nodded in unison. Sir Sumner immediately began taking off his armor top, revealing a t-shirt underneath that was probably white once, but now looked beige with all the dirt it was laced with. He let down his hair from the high ponytail it was in, shaking it out so it looked ragged and mussed and clapped dirt onto his hands. He pat himself down so he looked positively filthy and ripped his shirt a little.

Winona glanced to Harriet and opened her mouth to ask what Sir Sumner was doing, but remembered that she was told to stay quiet and clamped her mouth shut. Harriet noticed from the corner of her eye.

"_It's a ploy. We use him to see if who we're up against is decent._"

"_**Why?**_" She mouthed, not even making a sound.

Harriet looked back at her. "_Because decent people don't shoot poor old men._"

Winona's eyes widened and she saw Sir Sumner get up and limp out, back hunched slightly so he looked more like his age. She scrambled to get to her knees to stop him.

"_**No,**_" Harriet pulled her back flat on her ass. "_**You **__stay __**here,**_ _princess. He can take care of himself. He's got backup in his boot._"

"_Who's there?_" The old man called again from his front door. He stepped out onto the porch platform, twisting his head around and strained his aged ears.

"Just another old man," Sir Sumner replied in a wary voice, and the old man jumped and turned to him. "Please- my family needs a place to stay for the night. We're very tired from the day's walk and would like a safe place to rest our heads… My daughter is pregnant, and I have another young daughter with me. Please- if you have any sort of decency for poor folk, _help us!_"

"No! We can't take anyone! You need to keep walking! Find someplace else to stay!"

"Wha-?" Sir Sumner began, befuddled. "My family will not cause any harm, I assure you!"

"No, that's not it!" He walked to him quickly and grabbed his shoulders. "You need to leave! You have to get out of here while you still _can!_"

Sir Sumner straightened up, no longer looking like a weathered old man with a hunched back and seemed to almost _tower_ over the elderly man before him. His brows came together in concern as his hair whipped in the gentle night breeze.

"Why do we need to leave?"

"This place- it's not safe for you or your family! Bad things will happen to your daughter and her unborn child! _You need to __**leave!**_ _Go! _Get as _far_ away from here as you possibly _can!_"

"Tell me- what is happening here?"

The old man opened his mouth to speak, but the porch light on the house Glasgow was hiding behind snapped on and the door swung open. A man dressed in red satin nightwear came out onto the porch step, bathed in the dim, flickering light of the lantern with a positively _obnoxious_ grin on his face. It cast shadows amongst his pulled back features, making him seem like a nightmarish creature with big, shiny eyes.

"Grandpa _Harris,_ what are you doing outside so late?" He asked in a chipper voice and stepped out onto the broken sidewalk, never minding the dirt that clung to the soles of his bare feet. "Oh! Does good old Andale have a new visitor?"

"N- No!" The old man, who was referred to as _Grandpa Harris,_ exclaimed- waving his arms in front of him in a "no way" sort of gesture with wide eyes behind his glasses. "H- He was just asking for directions out of here, is all!"

"Aw, don't be _silly!_" He turned his obnoxious smile to Sir Sumner, who hunched over again to retain his "poor old man" façade for the newcomer. "Who would _ever _want to leave this quaint little place? Welcome to Andale! Isn't it _awfully _late to be out at this time of night, stranger?"

"Indeed it is," His voice didn't carry the somber, weathered tune it had earlier when he went up to Grandpa Harris- it sounded stern and alert. Winona's ears picked up on it immediately.

"_I __**knew**__ we shouldn't have fucking stopped here-_" Harriet growled and looked to Winona. "_We gotta get out of here."_

"_Why? Because of what that old man said?_"

"_**No-**__ you fucking __**think?**_" Harriet looked to Glasgow and put her tongue between her teeth, emitting a small, whispery noise that sounded like a radroach chitter. Glasgow looked over and nodded, as if agreeing that they had to leave.

"_What do you think's wrong with this place?_" Winona asked hesitantly.

"_Could be anything,_" Her angular blue eye snapped back to Sir Sumner, who was speaking with the man in satin pajamas and it narrowed dangerously. "_What the fuck is he __**doing? **__He needs to get his wrinkled ass __**back **__here!_"

"_We could use Widget to get his attention…"_ She suggested, looking to the little bug bot who continued to hide under the burned book in the garbage heap.

"_**Too risky,**_" She murmured, and looked up to Glasgow once again. He nodded and cupped his hands around his mouth, imitating the growl of a molerat.

Sir Sumner's ears immediately perked up and he turned his head slightly in their direction, signaling that he heard them. He looked back to the man in satin pajamas and smiled.

"Well, now that I think about it my family is quite… _Rowdy._ I wouldn't want them bothering your nice little town- we'll be on our way now."

"Oh, why don't you stay awhile, stranger?" The man insisted in that chipper voice of his. "We don't get a lot of visitors here in Andale, and we just _love_ the company! You can stay in the house down the street, after all, your daughter is pregnant, isn't she? She should sit back- rest her feet up!" He pointed down to the house where Grandpa Harris came from. "Grandpa Harris will stay in our house tonight. _Won't you, Grandpa?_"

Sir Sumner glanced to Harris, and he looked as if he were stuck to the spot in fear. His wrinkled face had paled significantly, almost seeming as white as his wispy hair, and he swallowed hard before nodding.

"Ye- Yes… I'll stay with you tonight."

"Excellent!" He turned back to Sir Sumner. "So what do you say?"

Harriet and Glasgow gave each other worried looks, before Glasgow _finally _mouthed.

"_We are __**royally **__fucked._"

* * *

><p>"What the <em>fuck <em>is the _matter _with you?" Harriet screamed, pulling out the combat helmet she had placed under her baggy shirt, which was made of Brahmin skin sewn together and it was so long that it reached her knees. The helmet was there so that she would look pregnant. After hearing that Sir Sumner had agreed to the pajama-man's proposition of letting them stay the night, they all quickly had to change into some "civilized" clothing and out of their armor. They couldn't exactly _seem _like a poor, Wastelander family if they all were wearing some heavy-duty pieces.

"Please, lower your voice, Harriet." Sir Sumner asked calmly as he went into the bathroom to wash the dirt he had put onto his face as part of his poor old man get-up.

She growled like a rabid dog and aimed to throw her helmet at him, but Glasgow bounded over and snatched it out of her hand before she had the chance.

"Calm down _pookie. _You might go into labor," He grinned when she had the look of death in her twisted up expression. Glasgow only had enough time to pull his baggy cargos over his armor pants and remove his armor top to reveal the skin-tight black tank he had underneath it. He had to pretend to be the son-in-law- father of Harriet's "baby." He had a lot more fun playing that part than he _should_ have. "If any of the people here hear you screaming like that, they'll come running. We can't risk them poking their noises into our business." He then turned to the bathroom door where Sir Sumner hunched over the sink to plug up the drain. "But seriously- what the fuck _were_ you thinking? Didn't you hear what the old fossil _said?_"

"I heard him perfectly fine- I may be old, but my hearing is just as good as the day I was born," He answered matter-of-factly. "There is something troubling this town, and I intend to find out what."

"Sumner! You fucking- _shit!_" Harriet growled, throwing her hands up into the air. "Fuck this- I need a smoke…"

"_Smoking isn't good for the baby,_" Glasgow chimed in a singsong voice with a grin on his face.

"And I'm sure my foot up your ass won't be good for your ego," She barked.

"Please, can you stop fighting?" Winona asked, putting her bag on the floor. She had changed into the dress Mr. Burke had given her- lavender in color with a square neckline, airy sleeves, above the knee hemline and black satin ribbon that wrapped around under her breasts with matching lavender flats. She got it a little dirty in her rush to change.

The two only glared at each other as Sir Sumner poured clean water into the stopped up sink and began to wash his face.

"Why are we here if this town is dangerous?" Winona asked gently (although she was a little scared and a little irritated herself), coming into the doorway. "Why did you say yes?"

"Because my map indicates that this town is safe for a _reason _while Mr. Harris says otherwise," He answered, putting his face back down into the sink to scrub it clean. He came back up and dried himself off.

"You're puttin' us in danger because of your damn _map?_" Glasgow exclaimed, smacking his hand to his forehead in disbelief. "What the _hell?_ What about Winona's old man? We're supposed to be making our way to GNR to _look_ for him!"

"It's only for the night…" Winona interjected, although worry for her father brimmed in her body and she wanted to keep searching. They had to take the night to rest, or else they wouldn't get very far in the day. "We'll leave in the morning."

"What makes you think we'll be _alive_ in the morning, princess?" Harriet huffed, looking to Sir Sumner as he finished drying off his face and came to them with the towel in his hands. "Fucking map's gonna get us _killed…_"

"It will- if this map marker is incorrect and this town proves to be unsafe, how many _other _locations on my map were improperly catalogued?"

Her good eye widened and she looked to Glasgow, whose eyes were wide as well. It looked like neither of them had even _thought_ of that.

"Who catalogued this location?" Glasgow asked seriously.

"I have no clue." He answered. "I only know the locations I scouted- those are reliable, unless something new has moved in."

"Fucking _great…_" Harriet muttered.

"So what's the plan?" Glasgow asked, holding up Harriet's combat helmet. "We gotta leave by mornin'- and you're _not_ gonna be up all night playing Nancy Drew when you need to sleep, old man."

"I wish to speak with Mr. Harris again. He doesn't seem shy to tell us what is wrong with this place."

"Yeah, but he's in the house with that weirdo. I recognized him- he's Baldie. I saw him down my scope."

"His name is Jack Smith," Sir Sumner replied. "And he was _very_ quick to take Mr. Harris inside and away from us."

"Yeah, he was," Harriet recalled.

"Does that mean that whatever's going on in Andale, Mr. Smith has something to do with it?" Winona asked.

"Possibly," He nodded and shouldered his towel. "For now, we will sit down, eat, and rest a while. I'll go to the Smith's and see if I may speak to Mr. Harris once again."

"In private?" Glasgow asked. "How do you plan on doing that when Baldie's trynna keep you away from him?"

"I'm sure I'll think of something," He answered as a fond twinkle came to his weathered eyes and a faraway smile tugged at his laps. He laid the towel around his shoulders and turned back to the bathroom.

"Wait, Sir Sumner-" Winona stopped him by grabbing his arm. He stopped and looked back at her, as did Harriet and Glasgow, and they both stared at her as if she had done something taboo.

The old man simply smiled. "Yes?"

"Be- Be _really_ careful… I have a bad feeling about Mr. Smith."

"Jack?" Glasgow inquired.

"Well we _all_ fucking do, princess…"

"Yeah, but didn't you hear him earlier?" She pushed.

"What do 'ya mean?" Glasgow piped up again.

"I believe she is referring to Harriet's pregnancy," Sir Sumner answered, briefly nodding to Harriet.

"_What about_ _it?_"

"He said you had to put your feet up because you were "pregnant," He turned back to the bathroom, grabbed the doorknob, and looked back at them over his shoulder. "Yet he wasn't there when I told Mr. Harris about your pregnancy. How could he have known?"

"He- _fuck _he was spying on us!" Glasgow seethed and turned away, rubbing his face down with one hand clutching his hip, cursing under his breath.

"He may have been. He could have been watching you three while I was speaking to Mr. Harris. After all, one of the second-floor windows of his house practically overlooks where you three were hiding- if I recall, Glasgow was under that exact window."

"Way to go _dumbfuck,_" Harriet growled.

"So what do we do?" He ignored her.

"Well, we do just as Winona said- we be _very _careful." He replied in a stern tone and closed the bathroom door.

The three others bathed in silence, glancing back and forth at one another before Harriet sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"If I haven't said it before, I'll say it a-_fucking-_gain,"

"_We're all __**fucked?**_" Glasgow finished with a roll of his eyes, propping his glasses up onto his head so his icy blue eyes flashed in the light. Winona immediately felt her breath hitch in her throat, and he looked at her curiously- as if he had heard it.

"Bingo."


	27. CHP 27: Adventure in Andale PART 3

**A/N: HEY GUYS! Just a quick little note for you all-**

**a LOT of stuff is going on right now, so I'm not gonna be around for a few weeks... Sorry e_O And today only Saving Me and A Trial of Risk and Fall will be updated! Another War For Your Textbook won't be updated till I return.**

**Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy the two chapters I post today, and I apologize for the inconvienance!**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

**PS: Oh right, if you go to my profile, I have a LOOOONG list of stories I'm planning on posting in the future :D Check it out! Maybe there will be something that YOU'D be interested in reading, huh?**

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><p>Winona rolled over in her creaky cot, staring at Widget who lay asleep on top of her bag, curled up next to Gizmo's muzzle. The little ladybug bot had expressed sincere excitement when the inventor finally got some downtime that night to work a little on Gizmo, and she wondered if it was because Widget felt lonely. She'd get so happy when she saw another robot, like when she saw a Protectron the four ran into a few hours ago- even though the damned thing was shooting <em>lasers <em>at them.

_I should finish him as soon as possible._ She decided determinedly, sitting up on her bed to get up and get back to work when she realized it was late- she looked to her Pip-Boy to confirm this, but it was only 9:43. Not very late in _her _book, but Glasgow stated they should hit the hay early to leave at the right time in the morning and no one had any qualms over it. The problem was that _they_ were asleep, she _needed _to work, and she sometimes (okay, a _lot _of the time) made a _huge _ruckus when doing so. But she didn't want to risk waking up anyone, _especially _Harriet.

"_Face it, you say you wanna pull your weight in the group, but you've got __**nothing**__ to pull if you don't even know how to use a fucking __**gun **__properly, and __**we **__always need to watch out for you."_

She huffed with irritation under her breath.

"_She's gonna turn into every slaver's wet __**dream **__if she can't protect herself,"_

What was that woman's _problem _anyways? What did she do _wrong_ that irked her so much?

"_Why bother trying at __**all **__if they're just going to run away in the end?"_

Wait- what did Harriet say after that? Winona closed her eyes, concentrating on the conversation they had earlier.

"_Why trust people you only just __**met **__when they promised to protect me and keep me safe, and-"_

Her eyes snapped open. She _remembered, _now! Was Harriet so reluctant to trust her simply because they didn't _know_ each other? It didn't make sense- of _course_ they didn't know each other, they only just met, and the hardened woman wouldn't give her the chance to talk about herself!

_No, it has to be something more than that…_ Winona mused as she got up from her bed and went to her bag, carefully taking Widget off and laying her on her thin pillow. She then turned back to her bag and opened it, poking through it as silently as she was able to. _She must have trusted the wrong person some time ago and paid for it… But what does that have to do with me? What does that have to do with her being so __**angry **__with me?_

She finally found what she was looking for- a tattered sheet of faded blueprint paper and a pen that was almost out of ink. She quickly scribbled a note on it, folded it up, and then went diving back into her bag to pick through it. Out came a small object, cold and light in her fingers and it pricked her palm. It was a pin of Vault Boy- the mascot for Vault-Tec when the Vaults were under construction. The Vault's earlier residents found a whole _box _of Vault Boy pins in one of the lower levels, which Vault-Tec used as another means to advertise the underground sanctuary. Winona had a few stashed in her room, and when she escaped she took some to remember her "home" while away from it. She quickly shook the thought out of her head and fumbled towards the bedroom door in the dark. She finally opened it, coming out into the dim light of the living room of the house to see her three bodyguards sleeping.

Sir Sumner slept on the couch as he claimed he had a "bum knee" and therefore got couch privileges- Glasgow claimed he had a bad back and had more of a privilege than the old man did, but it was obvious from the very beginning who would win _that _argument. Harriet was sprawled out on one of the roll out beddings they brought with them, and Glasgow was propped up against one of the couch arms on the floor, head lolled forward with his arms crossed over his chest lazily. His gun resided in his arms, the butt of it jammed against his knee with his cheek pressed into the side of the barrel. The dim light of the lantern that was set atop the small table in the center of the room illuminated the sleeping features of the trio, but none more so than Glasgow.

His long and messy braid draped over his shoulder so it ran down his broad chest, which was flecked with grazes and upraised scars, and some of his skin was burned- _ruined-_ on his right hip. The golden flicker of light danced across his untouched face, and Winona thought he absolutely looked like an _angel._ Of course, the fact that he was _shirtless_ didn't help… He boisterously claimed he slept nude, and not _once _had she seen him sleep without clothes on, but this was their first night together so she assumed he decided not to do anything like that. Either that, or someone (Sir Sumner) told him to at _least _keep his pants on.

A heated blush came to her face at the thought of Glasgow sleeping in front of her, naked with his gun in his lap, and she wondered how much farther that patch of ruin skin went below his pants. She wondered what _other _scars he had below his pants…

_Oh lord…_ _Damnit, __**focus! Focus, **__Winona!_ She shook her head clear of the thought and crouched towards Harriet as stealthily as she could, dropping the note and the pin into the combat helmet that resided by her pillow. It was the helmet she had used to fake her pregnancy, Winona noted. As she got up, stretched her limbs till the popped and looked at the front door did she suddenly feel like going out for a walk in the night. She needed to think, and she found that the night air was quite calming. While out on her walks, she liked to write letters in her head to her father- asking him how he was and telling him about her new friends.

She looked down at Harriet just as she let out a long belt of a snore.

Well… _Most _of them were her friends.

Winona shook her head and made her war towards the door, carefully trying to skirt around Glasgow to get there. When she looked down to make sure she hadn't woken him up, she realized with absolute _panic_ (_and some sinful interest, she couldn't lie_) that although the ex-raider had pants on, the belt was unfastened and the pants were unzipped, revealing a pair of worn, black boxers. The light of the lantern illuminated the form of his-

"You got a staring problem, doll?"

The inventor practically shrieked with surprise when she realized she had been caught staring at… She couldn't bring herself to say it, not even in her _head._ Her eyes quickly darted up to his face to see that his icicle blue eyes were looking up at her from underneath heavy eyelids and a small, devilish yet very sleepy smile graced his luscious lips.

"I- I was just-… _uh…_" She fumbled with her words, swallowing hard.

He tilted his gun forward so it was no longer resting on his shoulder to reveal more of his crotch. Even _more _heat drained into her face, causing her to blush a furious shade of red.

"I saw you looking." He stated calmly.

"I- I didn't mean-! I- I don't-…" She sputtered.

The smirk on his face widened. "You had a pretty curious look on your face, staring at it like that."

"I didn't know you were awake!" She exclaimed, struggling to keep her voice in a hushed whisper as to not wake up Harriet or Sir Sumner. "I didn't think-…"

"You can touch it, you know."

"…_Excuse me?_" She choked, utterly horrified.

"You know, touch it?" He raised a sleepy eyebrow at her and yawned obnoxiously, scratching the side of his jaw. "It's not your first time touching one, is it?"

"Wha- _What?_" She blinked in terror, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Was he- _flirting _with her? No, flirting wasn't _this _straight forward! Flirting was _elusive_ and _fun,_ not-… Okay, this was kinda hot. But _scarier _than a pack of wild dogs chasing you halfway across the mottled Wasteland!

"You've touched one before, right?" He rephrased himself, looking back up at her.

"I-…" Winona swallowed hard and shook her head. "N- No… I haven't. I never have…" She admitted with some embarrassment. Was this _really _happening? She dug her nails into her palms to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

Yup. She wasn't.

_Oh God._

His brows furrowed together with confusion. "Are you sure?"

"_Huh?_"

"I said- are you _sure?_ I could have sworn you held my sniper rifle earlier today…"

"…_What._" It wasn't even a _question-_ it sounded more like a statement, and suddenly Winona had that gut-wrenching, heart-stopping, mind-buzzing feeling that the two were talking about getting all touchy-feely with two _completely _different objects.

"Yeah, didn't you hold my sniper rifle today when we were doing RECON on Andale?" He nodded to his gun. "It's a little lighter than the rifle- seven pounds. You should be able to hold it without any problem, it's a Chinese assault rifle." He raised it up to her with one hand, with no effort. "I've got some throwing knives, if you wanna touch those, too."

"N- No thanks!" She cried in a croaked whisper, quickly skittering away to the door faster than a bandit from a bank robbery. She tugged at the door knob and stepped out into the open night, feeling the chilled air rush to caress her heated face and she sighed tensely.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" He asked groggily.

"I needa take a walk. I'll stay right in front of the house," She spoke, afraid to look back at him.

"Scout's honor?"

Winona nodded silently.

"Fine," He moved to get up, his belt buckle clicking against the undone zipper of his pants as he did, using his gun to help him get to his feet. "I'll go out with you."

"No! No! Go back to sleep, I'll be fine- look, I'll keep the door open, see?" She pulled back from the porch, stepping out onto the road while leaving the door open so he could still see her. "_See?_"

A genuine smile graced his lips, replacing the devilish one he had only moments before and he shrugged.

"Fine, doll face. Do whatever you like- just stay away from the other houses and keep where I can see you."

"Okay…" She muttered under her breath, looking out into the night air and sighed deeply as she went over to a nearby garbage heap and began digging through it curiously- poking around for any spare parts she could use to put something _good _together.

_**Dear Dad…**_

_** I think I want to just crawl under a rock and NEVER come back out. Possibly die and rot away from EMBARRASSMENT while I'm at it. I'm not going to write to you why I'm embarrassed, because I'm sure you'll turn just as red-faced as I am right now!**_

* * *

><p>Glasgow grinned as he watched Winona poke through a garbage heap, a concentrated look on her face as the bright, ominous moon light bore down onto her working form as she picked things up and tossed them to the side when they didn't catch her interest, making another separate, and smaller, pile at her feet for things that she <em>did <em>find interesting. It was like watching a little girl. She finally took a moment to dust her hands off by patting them on her pajama pants legs (which were a pair of dingy cotton Capri's she had taken with her from Tenpenny tower that had soft dark blue stripes running down a light blue background with a matching light blue, heavily dirtied, tank top) and pulled a black hair ribbon from her shirt (her bra, more specifically) and tied her unruly silver hair back with it like a headband. Her bra strap slid down her shoulder as she worked, almost giving him a nice view of her tits when she bent over to continue picking through the pile.

Sure, he'd admit she didn't have a figure- her body being flatter than irradiated Nuka-Cola on a boiling hot day- and she had small tits, but for some reason, that didn't _bother _him. He liked his women with plunging curves, broad hips, and breasts that were just _perfect _for kneading in your hands, but her-… He didn't care that she was lacking in everything he wanted in a woman physically. What troubled him more was the fact that he found himself wanting her more than he _ever_ wanted to ravage a woman _despite_ her failure to meet his expectations.

"_And if I hear that you have so much as __**looked**__ at her with that damned smile of yours, the bullet I put through your skull will be the __**last**__ thing you never see."_

It suddenly hit him, like Sir Sumner's laser rifle butt to his perfect face if the old man ever found out about what he was thinking. He wanted her so badly because he was told she was off-limits by the king of grumpy old farts himself. He simply _wanted_ what he was told he couldn't _have._

He recalled cracking an eye open only moments ago to find Winona staring at his clothed cock with a condemning blush on her face, biting on her thin bottom lip as if she didn't know what to do with herself. He _knew _she wasn't staring at his gun, only a moron would think that, but to keep from embarrassing her he played it off.

Well, he could have just kept pretending he was asleep… So if he was being honest with himself, it was more for his amusement to see if she would outwardly admit staring at his cock. _Sue him._

He sighed and ran his fingers through his bangs. He didn't know if it was the chilly night air or the tingle of pleasure that sent a shockwave up his spine at the sight of Winona staring at his cock in his mind's eye, but either way the part of his zipper teeth that crowned the exposed black fabric of his boxers began to tent as his member twitched with life, coming to be half-mast. He groaned, out of irritation or out of content that he was going to have to take care of the problem, he didn't know, but he turned away from the door so Winona wouldn't see his… growing problem.

As Glasgow staggered to the bathroom in his still somewhat drowsy haze to take care of his tenting problem (he finally chalked up his earlier groan to be one of content rather than irritation), the ex-raider absentmindedly closed the door behind him with a soft _woosh _making no more than a whispering click as the loose locking mechanism of the door slid into place, locking Winona out of the house.

* * *

><p>Winona sat on the porch step of the house the four were sharing, fiddling with something in her hands. She had found a broken laser pistol in the heap- the photonic focusing chamber was smashed, so she'd have to find a way to repair it or even go as far as <em>replacing <em>it if she found it unsalvageable.

She turned the broken weapon over and over in her hands, taking a moment to put it in her lap so she could free her hands. She pulled her mother's black satin ribbon from her hair and tied her silvery strands out of her face again, as some of it was coming loose. In her haste, the damaged laser pistol slipped out of her lap, and before she could grab it, it smashed onto the ground, discharging a laser round that was as long as her _arm!_ She watched in horror as the laser shattered one of the bottom floor windows of Jack Smith's house, and her jaw dropped into her lap.

_Oh no!_ She got up, starting to jog to his house to make sure no one was injured when she stopped dead in her tracks. _He's the bad guy, isn't he? We shouldn't trust him- I shouldn't go over there by my__**self.**__ I should get Glasgow!_

Winona turned around and quickly walked up to the porch step. She grabbed the doorknob, turned, pushed into the door, and-

_**What?**_ She jiggled the door handle as her heart began to beat wildly in her chest, sweat dripping down the side of her face. _Locked? Bu- But __**how?**__ When did it even __**close?**__ What do I do? Why was I locked out?_

"Hello? Is anyone out there?"

Winona turned her head up and found Jack Smith standing on the front step of his house, the light of the porch lantern illuminating the angles of his figure, and to her horror she found him wielding a sawed-off shotgun.

_What do I do? What do I __**do?**__ If I knock on the door, they'll wake up and know I was outside- but it doesn't explain why the door is __**locked!**__ What if I __**don't **__knock, and this guy is bad? What if he's a raider in disguise? What if he-_

"_It means that if we're attacked by raiders, they're gonna fuck you, torture you to within an inch of your life, fuck you some more, and then kill you. Simple as that."_

_Oh __**God!**__ I don't want that happening to me! I need to find dad!_

"Hello? _Hello? __**He-**_ oh!" Winona froze, slowly turning her head over her shoulder to see that Jack was in the street, coming towards her with his broad grin reflecting the moonlight from his rows of pearly white teeth. He looked like a madman- that smile was too… _fake._ Too chipper.

The sound of rapid clicking caught her attention, and when her eyes darted down, she saw his hand- the hand that was holding his weapon- was shaking erratically, causing the clicking noise of his gun. His other hand was shaking a lot, too… He was shaking all _over!_ What was _wrong _with him?

"U- Uh… Hello," She gave a meek smile. "I- I'm Winona…"

"Oh, right! You're the youngest one, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah…" She rubbed the back of her head awkwardly. She hoped she remembered the story- _yeah, Harriet's my sister, Glasgow's my brother-in-law, and Sir Sumner is my father. Piece of cake._

"Whatcha got there, Winona?"

"Huh?" She looked down at her other hand, hanging limply at her side, _still _holding the broken (or so she thought) laser pistol she scrounged up from the garbage pile nearby. Her lavender eyes widened in terror, heart stopping in her chest.

"I- I found this… Over there," She pointed to the pile, which was now two separate piles- a big pile for junk, and a small pile for things she wanted to use and caught her interest. "I- dr- dropped it… and it shot your house and I am _so _sorry!" She finished the last part quickly. "I didn't mean it! No one is hurt, right? Everyone's okay?"

He belted out deep, boisterous laughter, throwing his head back as if she had said the funniest thing on Earth.

"No, no! No one's injured. Everyone was upstairs sleeping when the window broke, I just came outside to look around- make sure it wasn't anyone _dangerous_. But what are you doing out here so late? Now's the time for sleeping!"

"I- I couldn't sleep…" _Damnit Winona, why aren't you __**lying **__to him?_

"Is that so? Well, maybe a nice, cold Nuka-Cola will help rest you up? Or maybe some warm food? Warm food always puts me right to sleep!" He laughed again. "Have you been eating well? Maybe that's why!"

Come to think of it, Winona hadn't eaten since this morning… But that's because after they settled into the house, the others ate but she refused food. She just wasn't hungry at the time, but she was hungry _now…_ Warm food and a cold soda sounded good to her right now. It reminded her of… Well, of Tenpenny Tower. She suddenly found herself missing Charles' company. She wondered what he was doing right now… She smiled a little, _probably worrying about me._

Winona shook her head clear of the thoughts upon realizing she was getting off track.

"That- That's very kind of you, really. But I've been outside for a while, and I _should _probably get to sleep, now. Goodnight, Mr. Smith."

"If you say so. Goodnight."

She turned to the door, slowly pretending to open it when she stopped and looked back- finding Jack still standing behind her with that chipper grin smeared over his lips.

"Uh…" She raised an eyebrow. _This isn't good._

"Well? Aren't you going inside?"

"A- Aren't _you?_" She shot back. _This __**really **__isn't good!_

"I'd like to make sure you get back safely!" He exclaimed heartily.

"But… I'm right in front of the house…" _This is bad this is bad this is bad this is bad this is __**BAD!**_

"Then you'll have no problem going inside and closing the door… Right?"

"I- I suppose." _**Run **__Winona, __**run!**__ Run and don't look back! Scream! Do __**something **__to get Glasgow's attention! Do something to get __**someone's **__attention!_

But then she realized that if she screamed, she'd risk waking up _everyone _in the town- even the people she _didn't _want to know that she was out. If Jack was bad, than that would mean that the rest of Andale's inhabitants were bad, too. It was unfortunate enough that she had _one _suspicious enemy watching her right now, she didn't need several more coming outside to assist him, too.

"Then go ahead. Open it." Jack spoke.

Winona turned back to the door and swallowed hard, grabbed the doorknob and turned it. She pushed into the door, her heart sinking into her stomach when she found that it was _still_ locked and tried to make sure she didn't look afraid or hopeless.

"Would you look at that? Looks like you're locked out." Jack murmured behind her, the chipper tone of his voice taking on an eerie- almost _mocking-_ tone.

"I- I guess so…" She murmured under her breath, feeling cornered and defeated.

"Why don't you come to _our _home? We'll make you something to eat, you can sleep on the couch, and then return to your family in the morning."

"I- I can just knock," Winona lifted up a rolled knuckle to the splintered wood to do just that when Jack's hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist. She shrieked in surprise, flinching away to pull her arm from his grasp. His eyes retained a seedy, predator glint and his smile turned into a side lopped grin.

"That won't be necessary. After all, your father needs his sleep- he looks like he's had a _long _day worrying about you and your sister. She needs her sleep too, she's pregnant. You can just sleep in our home, so you don't disturb them." He was getting demanding- forcefully shoving this choice down her throat.

"Tha- Thank you, but no. I'm sure my father and sister will understand." She turned to knock on the door again when he grabbed her by her shoulder and pulled back, causing her to fall off the porch step and into the dirt on her side and elbow with the laser pistol clattering into the dirt at her side. She stared up at him with wide eyes, breath coming in hitches and her heart pounded wildly in her chest as she propped herself up on trembling hands.

"I didn't mean to be so forceful, but you _really _shouldn't bother them when they're trying to sleep…" He whispered in that eerie, mocking tone once again.

Before Winona could think, her foot came flying up, hitting home in his crotch. He grunted under his breath, trying to keep from yelling out and he crumpled to his knees, dropping his weapon. She immediately rolled onto her hands and knees and forced herself to get up, only running a few steps before falling to her knees again. She crawled the rest of the way to the front door, and before she could bang on it, she was being pulled back by her hair into the dirt and dragged out onto the road. Kicking and flailing her legs, scratching at his hands in her hair, she finally screamed- not caring if the other residents heard her since she was caught already. As the butt of Jack's sawed-off shotgun came smashing down on her head, it cut off her screams of fear, letting it rebound into the night.

And the only person her rebounding screams woke up was Sir Sumner.

* * *

><p>"Miss Parker!" Sir Sumner jumped up from the beaten couch of Grandpa Harris' living room, running to Winona's bedroom and threw the door open with a slam. Widget screeched, lunging up from Winona's pillow to hide under her bed in fear as Sir Sumner's eyes darted back and forth through the darkness, waiting for his eyes to adjust. His chest clenched tightly, lungs contracting to keep him from inhaling or even <em>exhaling <em>when they finally adjusted and he found Winona's bed to be empty.

"_**Glasgow! Harriet!**_" He boomed, darting back into the living room. Harriet shot up in her rolled out bedding, her short black hair sticking up in different directions and her eye patch was askew on her face.

"What's going _on?_" She grumped and yawned before glaring half-heartedly up at him. "The _fuck_, Sumner?"

"Miss Parker is missing." He stated in a composed panic, moving across the room to pick up his black combat armor top to pull it on over his head.

"_**What?**_" She barked, quickly pulling herself up from the bed to grab for her own armor, looking around. "Where the fuck is Glasgow?"

Sir Sumner's eyes widened, and he looked over to where Glasgow had been sleeping- propped up against the arm of the couch. He was gone now, but his Chinese assault rifle was propped against the table.

"That- That conniving, sweet-mouthed _bastard…_" He murmured under his breath.

"You don't _actually _think-?" Harriet began, but was cut off by the bathroom door opening and Glasgow stepping out with his face glowing a light red shade and he had a dopey smile on his lips. The smile disappeared when he blinked and recognized that his comrades were awake, staring at him with a pointed expression.

"…_What?_" He asked impatiently.

"I pray you don't have any children, Glasgow…" Sir Sumner murmured tensely under his breath.

"Huh? Why's that?"

The old man turned to his backpack by the couch and pulled his Chinese officer's sword from its sheath, aiming the glinting tip of it at Glasgow's throat with a menacing look gleaming in his brown eyes.

"So I won't have to notify your next of _kin._"

"_What!_ What did I _do?_" He exclaimed, backing away with his hands held up in a move of surrender.

"Princess!" Harriet called, going into the bathroom. "Oh _God!_" She ran back out. "Glasgow what the fuck were you _doing _in there?"

"Whaddya think a bathroom's _for?_" He scowled, reverting his eyes back to Sir Sumner. "Why are you lookin' in the bathroom for Winona, anyways? I was just in there!"

"Wait," Harriet stepped up to the two men. "She's not with you?"

"_No!_ Again, why _would _she be with me in the fucking _bathroom?_" He barked, his sharp icicle blue eyes darting back and forth between the two of them. "What's goin' on?"

"Miss Parker is missing." Sir Sumner stated, lowering his sword finally.

"Uh- no, she isn't." Glasgow let out a sigh of relief and lowered his arms to his sides. "She's outside."

The old man lifted his sword to the ex-raider's throat again.

"You best pick your next words _very _carefully, Glasgow- because I am positive your incompetence won't make you invincible to my sword piercing your gut. _Why is Winona outside?_"

"She couldn't sleep! She wanted to pick through the piles of junk in the street so I told her she could! I left the door open so I could watch her-"

"The door's locked," Harriet stated, flicking up the latch and opened the door to peek outside. "Oh, and Winona's gone. Would you look at that?"

"_I was gone for two__** damn**__ seconds!_" Glasgow cried.

"_Well that is two seconds too __**long **__that you were away from her! We have to watch her at __**all **__costs, Glasgow!_" Sir Sumner boomed, causing him to shrink back.

"Girls, _girls-_ you're both pretty, don't fight about it." Harriet quipped.

"_**Harriet.**_" Sir Sumner murmured in warning.

"Look, the longer you two fucking argue, the longer princess is in danger." She pointed out as she pulled on her black combat armor pants.

"Then we spread out over the town." The old man agreed with a nod of his head, turning away to put his own armor pants on. "Glasgow, you must stay here in case she comes back. It's a slim chance, but for all we know it could be a misunderstanding and she is safe. Also, make sure her little friend, the robot, doesn't leave and cause trouble."

"Yeah…" Glasgow murmured, fists clenching at his sides as he stared at the floor, biting his bottom lip hard.

"Harriet and I will go to the main houses- I'll take the Smith residence, Harriet, you take the Wilson residence. Ask if they know of Winona's whereabouts. If they don't, ask to enter the house to search. If they refuse-"

"Beat them to within an inch of their miserable fucking lives?" She asked with a sadistic grin on her face, slipping on her armor top and her brass knuckles.

"Demand that you enter their home to search. If they refuse again, _then _you are allowed to beat them within an inch of their miserable lives." Sir Sumner nodded his head, sheathing his sword on his hip and grabbed his laser rifle, going to the front door. "Never take no for an answer!"

"Do I _ever?_" She called back, leaning over to pick up her combat shotgun from her bedside when something in her combat helmet, something _glinting,_ caught her attention. She grabbed the helmet and dumped its contents out, finding a pin and a folded up note. Harriet picked up the pin and examined it, recognizing the icon to be pasted all over damaged Vault advertisement posters.

"The _fuck?..._" She murmured, her brows furrowing together and she grabbed the note, quickly unfolding it to read the brief and neatly written message.

_** You can trust me.**_

_**-Winona**_

Harriet's good eye widened in horror and she looked down at the Vault Boy pin in her other, trembling hand.

"_Shit!_" She let out a low, feral growl and clenched her hand into a fist, shouldering her combat shotgun and scurried up from her bed, rushing out the door and down the street to the Wilson house.

Glasgow dejectedly dragged himself into Winona's room and flopped down on her bed, Widget finally coming out and crawling up into his lap to see what was wrong. She clicked her tongue in question.

"Sorry, wind-up toy. Winona's gone."

Widget only had a moment to go through a _ridiculously _anger-fueled outburst before he pushed his thumb into her eye and she turned off in his lap, sprawling out in a lifeless heap against his fingers. He recalled Winona doing that several times to turn the robot off. He dropped Widget onto her pillow and looked out of the bedroom, eyes focusing through the open front doorway that let in the night breeze. He sighed and held his head in his hands. He wasn't going to just _sit _there like the fucking idiot that he was when Winona was possibly in danger, and it was _his _fault!

Glasgow quickly got up, threw on his armor, grabbed his rifle and his throwing knives and strapped them to his thighs, made his way out the door and ran out into the night. He spotted a giant tin shack behind the Wilson residence, and recalled Grandpa Harris staring at something with a sullen look on his face through the crosshairs of his sniper rifle scope. Shouldering his rifle, he jogged towards it.

_I'm sorry, doll… I really am._


	28. CHP 28: Adventure in Andale PART 4

**A/N: Hey, everyone. Sorry I haven't posted, and I've been taking a lot of breaks, lately. I know that some of you have been worried and tell me to take it easy, but I feel like I'm failing you as my readers by taking so much time off and not updating my stories e_O Yes, stuff is going on in my life right now- shitty stuff, really- but today I forced myself to relax because when I'm high-strung... Well, bad stuff happens xD I had to calm myself down, and the way I do that is by writing. I wrote some original work, got writers-block on that so I decided to write a chapter for one of my ongoing stories to get the juices flowing, and since I finished the chapter (because I got _really_ into writing it) I decided to post it for you all! Yay!**

**Now, as warning, this is a VERY long chapter, but I've been told by some of you that you enjoy long chapters so it doesn't matter. Hope this is long enough for you, as it is also not just an apology but a thank you for how wonderful all of you are for sticking around :D You guys really ARE awesome- I can't even put it into words!**

**I hope the chapter is to your liking, and ignore whatever little errors or mistakes you see! I've been taking some sort of medication for me and I don't even know some of the things I was writing _while _I was writing them!**

**...Yup. _Good times._**

**Also, my other ongoing stories Another War For Your Textbooks and Saving Me will NOT be posted today. Just this chapter because this was the only chapter I was actually moved to write for you guys today xD -shrugs- I apologize. I'd probably be more productive if I wasn't a flurry of violent and ever-changing emotions drowned out with cold-medicine.**

**I'm not an addict, I swear! Just really sick D:**

**Anywho, enjoy!**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Harriet pounded on the front door of the Wilson residence, watching little clouds of dust spurt out from the cracks between the door and its frame from being disturbed to float idly to the step of the front porch and waited.<p>

_**You can trust me.**_

_What the fuck was __**that**__ all about?_ Harriet wondered, fingers twitching to touch the pocket on her belt where she put Winona's folded up letter and Vault Boy pin that had been placed in her combat helmet sometime during her sleep. Did Winona wander off and leave the note for them to let them know that she was leaving? That couldn't be. The little princess _knew_ how dangerous the Wasteland was without them to protect her…

_But does she __**really**__ fucking know how shitty it is out here? She **says** she knows- but there's a difference between knowing and __**understanding. **_She pounded on the Wilson's front door again, now getting agitated and impatient. _She knows, but she doesn't understand __**how **__fucked up it is out here…_

"_You little __**shits!**__ Don't you hear me __**knocking **__on your fucking door?_" Harriet boomed, kicking the door in anger before taking a step down from the porch and unslung her combat shotgun from her shoulder, cocking it in front of her. "_**OPEN THE FUCK UP!**_"

"Alright, alright!" Came Bill Wilson's drowsy voice, and she heard the repetitive _thump, thump, thump_ of someone stomping tiredly down a flight of stairs. "And there are children in this neighborhood who are _very _impressionable!" The porch light flicked on with a dull buzz, and the door suddenly swung open. "And I will _not _have you using _that_ kind of language in _my _neighbor-"

She lunged forward with a rabid yowl, knocking Bill to the dingy carpet of the front hallway of his home. There was a loud _thunk_ as the back of his skull connected with the ground and he groaned in pain. Harriet landed on top of him, one leg kneeling by his hip while the other was crooked up so her foot was under his sprawled out arm. The mouth of her combat shotgun was pressed into his cheek, where it will no doubt leave a swollen red print when she moved it away.

"Knock-knock! It's _rude_ to keep your guests waiting, you floating chunk of mucus in a bucket of _piss!_ Now _where the __**fuck**_ is Winona?" She growled.

"Wi- Winona? I- I don't know who that is!" He cried out, flailing a hand out to push her off him by smacking her in the face, but swat too close to her mouth and was met back by the sound of her teeth crunching down through his flesh to the very bone of his palm between his thumb and first finger. He howled in pain, causing a light to flick on over the upstairs landing that jut out from the bedroom hallway. A woman, his wife, Martha, appeared clinging onto the railing with a horrified expression on her contorted face.

"What are you _doing?_ Get off of him!" She cried as she flew down the stairs. "Get _out_ of our _house!_"

Harriet removed her combat shotgun from Bill's face and pointed it at her, dislodging Bill's hand from between her teeth so he clutched it to his chest, writhing under her in agony as tears of pain streamed down his face.

"Take _one _step closer to me, and your husband's _face _is going to _really_ bring out the dirt in your curtains when it's splattered all _over _your fucking walls!" A thick, metallic and warm liquid spread out over her tongue. She spit out Bill's blood, accompanied by the hunk of skin she tore off from his hand onto his chest, causing him to gawk in horror at the hunk of dead flesh with his mouth twisted into a hyperventilating shriek.

"_What do you __**want**__ with us?_" Martha cried, tears streaming down her face. "_We took you into our town, and __**this **__is how you repay us?_"

"_**WHERE IS WINONA?**_" Harriet screamed, pressing the barrel of her combat shotgun back into Bill's face. He started sobbing again, still clutching his hand against his chest. "_**WHERE IS SHE?**_"

"_I don't know who Winona is!_" She screamed back with trembling lips. Mucus began to slink down her upper lip from her nostrils. "Pl- Please! Don't kill my husband! He has a family to take care of!"

"You're getting off _track,_ bitch! Maybe if I go upstairs and kill your little girl you'll _remember _how to keep fucking _**focused!**_"

"_**No!**__ Please!_"

"_**WHERE IS WINONA? **__She's got white hair, purple eyes, and tan skin! You little dickless pieces of __**shit**__ know where she is, don't you? __**DON'T you?**_"

"N- No! We- We _don't _know where she is!" Bill exclaimed under her in a wavering, faraway voice as if he were slipping away from everything and into the world of unconsciousness. Harriet wasn't surprised- his pajama shirt was soaking up all of the blood that was spurting forth from his hand, and his eyes cast a distant and confused glint, as if he had forgotten where he was.

"_Harriet!_" Glasgow burst through the doorway, panting heavily with his sunglasses askew on his face, revealing one of his wide icicle blue eyes. He took no notice of the scene his comrade had played out before him. "There's a tin shack in their backyard! I can't pick the lock, but the whole area around it smells like a Super Mutant's gore-bag! The door's too strong for me to kick it down, too! I need a key or _something,_ I don't know!"

"_Is __**that **__where she is? In your __**shack?**_" Harriet screamed as she leaned back and began patting around on Bill's pants for a key. "_Where's the __**fucking **__key?_" She bellowed, looking back forward at him. She froze, her good eye widening at what she saw.

Bill had a maniac glare in his eyes with his brows furrowed down, crinkling the sun-kissed skin between them. His cracked lips were pulled back in a crooked grin as he chuckled thickly, tears straining down his face. His hand was pressed to his mouth, his blood seeping against his teeth and gums, coating everything in coagulated red and his tongue probed into the missing chunk of flesh Harriet had torn out with her _own _teeth before he ran his bloodied tongue over his lips, coating them with blood, too. Sinews of skin hung from around the missing crescent between his thumb and first finger, dangling into the cavern of his mouth as he continued to probe it with his wriggling tongue.

"It tastes _good,_ doesn't it? The sweet marmalade of _life…_ My family likes it, too, you know. The rest of you _don't…_ That's why _you _become the sweet marmalade of life, and _we _become the village people that will feast and feast and _feast!_" He burst out into boisterous laughter, causing flecks of sudsy saliva mixed with blood to splatter onto Harriet's face. She cringed in disgust, wiping it away into thin red smears on her cheeks and forehead and she growled at him, hitting him across the face with the butt of her combat shotgun. Even with a broken nose, streaming blood down his face and through the clasp of his lips, he was still laughing. The sick fuck was _still. Fucking. __**Laughing!**_

There was a clatter in Harriet's peripheral hearing, and when she looked up, she saw Martha running down the hallway towards the kitchen, sobbing loudly and screaming incoherent things.

"Glasgow, _get her!_" She exclaimed, but he was already jumping over Bill's legs and darting towards the kitchen.

"Your little friend is going to be the _newest _dish of sweet marmalade, you know." He hiccupped with laughter under Harriet, still licking at his hand like an injured animal tending to their wound, but the maniac glare in his eyes didn't leave. "I bet she tastes _real _sweet… Sweetest I'll _ever _taste! Sweet, sweet, sweet, _sweet!_ Do you hear that, Martha! Sweet marmalade, sweet nectar! I bet you Jack's getting her ready, oh, I _bet _you!"

There was a banshee screech from the kitchen as Glasgow emerged, jumping backwards to avoid the downward swing of a frying pan from Martha. Her face was contorted into an expression that was a cross between anger and pleasure, as if the clay of her face couldn't decide which emotion to mold itself into. She brimmed with a sick sort of happiness, laughing with her broken and battered husband who still lay on the floor.

"Sweetest we'll _ever _taste! We were planning on having you for a nice, big breakfast in the morning, but I guess a late midnight snack wouldn't hurt anybody none!" She cackled, swinging her frying pan at Glasgow again. "Come here, little snack! Don't fight me! It's not _lady-like_ for a woman to play with her food!"

"Well you've got a seriously fucked up list of _lady-like_ manners if you think eating people is on that list!" Glasgow yelled.

Martha gasped in feigned horror, still swinging at Glasgow with her makeshift weapon. "Oh, naughty, _naughty_ little snack! Dirty marmalade always makes for a tough slab of _meat!_" She cackled again. "Oh well, I guess I'll just have to chew you up _nice _and _tender!_"

"_Where's Sumner?_" He yelled to Harriet, dodging again to have stepped to close to Bill. His arm swung out and latched onto Glasgow's ankle so when he tried to jump away from another one of Martha's attacks, he fell to the ground with the downward swing of the frying pan narrowly missing the opportunity to smash the bones in his hand to pieces. He looked over his shoulder at Bill, still grinning and laughing, as he swung his injured hand upward. The sound of it smacking Harriet in the side of the head sent out a thick _swap _in the air and she toppled off of him into the coffee table, causing the legs to bend and break so it collapsed out from under her weight. Bill immediately rolled over, got to his knees, and lunged past his wife and to the stairs with his bitten and gushing hand curled to his chest.

"Bill! Where are you _going?_" Martha cried, trying to keep herself from turning around to watch him retreat in a panic. "Don't _leave _me to fight by myself!"

Harriet was faster, stopping him from escaping up the stairs by scrambling for her combat shotgun and aiming haphazardly before clutching her finger down on the trigger. Shrapnel ripped through the air, grazing the wooden railing of the staircase to tear through Bill's calf and knee. He emitted a feral howl as he reached the halfway point of the staircase before flying back to roll down them like a limp rag doll. His blown-off leg at the knee, tumbling down after him. Another loud _thunk_ ruptured the air as Bill's forehead smashed into the ground past the last step and he was out like a light.

"_Bill!_" Martha shrieked, finally breaking her eyes off from Glasgow for a split second.

But a second was all the ex-raider needed.

"_Don't turn your eyes away from your__** food**__ you putrid, cankerous skull-fucked__** WHORE!**_" Glasgow snarled, jumping up from his hands and knees to pin her against the wall by her throat. "_Or your **food **might just slink off your plate when you're not even fucking looking!_" His sunglasses flew off his face and landed by Bill's blown off limb at the stairs, and Martha's flying pan came out of her hands and did a halfway roll towards Harriet before landing on its back in a clatter. Martha screamed and thrashed against him, but he quickly took care of it by pulling out one of his throwing knives and drove it into her hand, pinning it to the wall like you would a sheet of paper with a thumbtack, and she howled in his ear.

"_Shut up, __**bitch!**__"_ He smacked her across the face and she whimpered in pain as the flesh of her cheek swelled up like a swollen red bud and she tried yanking the knife out from her hand weakly, her glazed over eyes tracing over the bandaged handle and the sleek metal of the blade imbedded into her ruptured skin. "Giving me a headache, screaming like that…"

Harriet, with some struggle, got up from the broken coffee table and walked over to Bill, who still lay unconscious at the base of the stairs with his bloodied stump of a leg bleeding out a crimson stream over the rocky terrain of the staircase. She crouched down at his side, fixing her eye patch as she did so as it had come loose during the scuffle.

"What do you want me to do with him?" She asked.

Glasgow grinned and grabbed Martha by her jaw so roughly that it cracked under his fingertips. He twisted her head to the side so that she was staring at Harriet hunched over her husband's body.

"Do you love him?" He whispered into her ear.

She nodded meekly.

"Do you want to see him _live?_"

She nodded again, closing her eyes tightly shut and tears bubbled out from under them to run down her swollen cheeks.

"_Open your __**fucking **__eyes!_" He demanded, smacking her head against the wall in punishment and she emitted a weak whimper before forcing her eyes open again. "Do you want to see him live to see your kid grow up? Do you want him to live to see your kid have kids, too?"

All throughout his talking, Martha nodded and nodded and even continued to nod when he was done speaking. He tightened his grip on her jaw when she closed her eyes again, and with another whimper, she forced them open. She couldn't see, anyways. Her tears were clouding her vision.

Glasgow looked up to Harriet and nodded, the grin still planted on his face.

"Kill him."

"_**NO!**_" Martha screamed.

Her pleas were met back with Harriet standing up, her shotgun pointed down at Bill's head. There was no sympathy in her eyes as she stared at Martha.

"Last chance," Glasgow murmured into her ear. "_Where is Winona?"_

"I- I don't know! I don't know, I don't know, _I don't __**know!**_" She shrieked in one long, ongoing ramble while shaking her head and ducking her face away, unwilling to look at her husband.

At that moment, Bill's eyes creaked open before he gave a weak blink. Blood coated his lips as he pulled them apart and thick strings of red stretched over his teeth with them. He outstretched a comforting hand to his wife.

"Mar- _Martha?..._"

Martha pulled back to stare at him with wide, teary eyes and she smiled slightly.

"Bill…" She breathed with relief.

The relief did not last for long as Harriet pulled the trigger of her combat shotgun, and Bill's head turned into a gushing fountain of crimson as his skull splattered across the floor, flesh lashed up the walls, and his grey matter sloshed onto Harriet's boots. She wiped them off against his side as best she could, mumbling with dissatisfaction.

"Sorry," She looked up at Martha and shrugged as her dissatisfaction turned into a side lopped grin. "_Finger slipped._"

"_Bill! __**No! **__No, no, __**no, no, NO!**_" She cried, stomping her bare feet on the floor like a child throwing a tantrum and she tried hitting Glasgow with her free hand. He removed his hand from her jaw and pulled out another throwing knife from his belt, holding her hand high above her head to pin it there. The knife drove all the way through to the hilt with the handle pressing into her palm. She screamed, which became even louder when he roughly yanked out the knife from her hand that was already pinned by her side and held it up above her head next to her other one, sliding the blade back in to the hilt so both arms were now above her head. Her knees crumpled under her weakly as blood streamed down her arms and sides like little red streams.

"Go find the shack key," Glasgow nodded to Harriet over his shoulder with a blank look on his face but his eyes were _livid._ Harriet nodded and rushed away, kicking Bill's body from the bottom of the stairs so she could get past and she ran up them. There was a scream as Harriet, undoubtedly, went into the room of Bill and Martha's daughter in her search. It was cut off by her closing the door, pattering down the hallway to the next room to continue her search. Glasgow had his eyes trained on the stairs to make sure their kid wouldn't come down. If she did, he'd kill her. He didn't want her to see her father missing his head and a leg, and her mother pinned against the wall, strung up like a marionette doll by bloodied blades. Harriet returned a moment later with a dull key in her possession.

"Jammed the door to the kids room. Only way to get in or out is breaking it down, and I don't think she has the strength to do that," She answered, about to toss him the key but he shook his head.

"Search the shack. I'll stay here and do a little more… _interrogating._"

"What're you gonna do?" She asked, more out of curiosity than concern, as she slung her shotgun over her shoulder.

He pulled for the combat knife had had strapped to his thigh, watching it glint in the light of the living room and he smiled at her.

"What I was always known for, Tak."

Harriet rolled her eyes and went to the open front door. "When you're done, we'll go pay the Smith's a visit before the old man goes missing, too." And then left.

Glasgow turned back to his victim and grinned wildly at her as he pressed the sharp edge of his knife to the corner of her mouth with her lips met the skin.

"Time to turn that frown _upside down… _You look a _lot _prettier with a smile on your face, _my little doll..._" He murmured impassively as he slowly pulled the knife through the skin of her cheek, carving a Glasgow smile into her face as she screamed, and screamed, and _screamed._

* * *

><p>Winona slowly opened her eyes, feeling the cold space around her slide over her skin like thick waves of dank air and she tilted her head up just slightly to look around.<p>

_Where-… Where __**am **__I?_ She wondered dizzily, pulling at her hands and balls of pain blossomed in her stiff shoulders- and when she looked up, she saw that her hands were tied together above her head and panic ran up her spine to ring home in her head, clearing the dizziness that settled there like a thick, befuddled fog. She was hanging from a meat hook in the crackled-paint ceiling, and when she looked down, goosebumps riddled her coffee-toned skin from the cold, and she recognized her naked body. She wasn't wearing any clothes, and from the way she was hanging, the soles of her toes grazed the ground just barely. She snapped her head up, trying to figure out where she was when her wide, lavender eyes fell upon her grotesque surroundings.

Skeletons with slack jaws were hung from the walls around her, their brittle bones riddled with tufts of maggot-infested flesh while on the opposite side of the room big iron cages on the floor held more skeletons, contorted in their prisons. Two refrigerators and a cooler were pressed up against the walls on her right while laid out in front of her were several counters with dull marble tops, glistening with jagged and streaked ribbons of bright red. Each counter held a mutilated and carved body- one of a man, and one of a woman. She could tell, even in the darkness, because both bodies were also naked to expose their gender-defining features to her. She squirmed more where she hung once seeing the skeletons hanging from the walls. Some from their wrists, like her, while others were strung up by their ankles. That's when the putrid odor of decomposing flesh, writhing with maggots, hit her nostrils and she choked on her vomit- unable to release it because a rag was stuffed into her mouth. Using her tongue, she shoved it out, but it gave some resistance as it clung to the dry walls of her mouth. With another few prods from her tongue, it flittered to the ground and she vomited, heaving up what little she had eaten from lunch the day before and began to dry-heave not too long after. Her stomach convulsed in her midsection, her heart pounded in her chest and seemed to be in her ears as her veins and arteries throbbed with blood under her skin. She suddenly felt restricted and tight, like this coffee skin wasn't _hers,_ and she needed to molt. She needed to shed away this skin that was so unbearable!

A dim light flicked on in the middle of the room, hanging from thick wire from the ceiling, and she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. She froze, craning her head up when she saw a smiling Jack Smith at the base of the stairs, hands on his hips, with a giant smile on his face- as if he had just caught the biggest fish there ever was.

"Well _hello _there! Glad to see you're awake, little missy! Didn't want you to be out too long, 'ya know!"

"Where- Where _am_ I?" She asked in a hoarse voice, feeling the tickle of a bead of vomit rolling down her chin from the corner of her lips.

"Aw, and it looks like you've made a mess of my _floor!_ Looks like I'm gonna have to get Linda down here to clean it up before we get started… I just can't _stand _the smell, you know!"

The smell of decomposing flesh hit Winona's nostrils again, and she felt herself began to heave again. Jack watched in amusement as she ducked her head away and instead of heaving, began to hyperventilate with tears running down her cheeks.

"You gotta _breathe, _sweetheart! If you pass out, you're gonna miss the fun!" He laughed and shook his head as if disappointed and walked across the room to her, weaving his way around the counters. Winona scraped her toes against the brick floor, trying to push herself away from him but he stopped her by latching his hands onto her bare hips, leaning his grinning face into hers. He seemed to pay no mind to stepping in her puddle of stomach contents, despite claiming that he hated the smell of bile. He removed a hand and advanced it towards her face but she ducked away again, throwing her head back in protest before he latched a successful hand under her jaw so she could stare back into his grinning face through her tears.

"Pl- _Please…_" She murmured pleadingly, sniffling as more tears formed in her eyes and spilled over. Her lips trembled, and her expression contorted into one of complete and utter _fear._ "Do- Don't _do _this to me! _Ple- __**Please!**_"

"Do you even _know_ what I plan on doing to you?" He asked, still grinning.

"Ra- Raider…" Was all she managed to choke out before his fingers dug into her jaw, keeping her from saying anything more and she cried out in pain, and tried squirming her chin out of his possession.

"That's a _dirty _little word used for dirty little people, you naughty thing!" He chuckled at her and finally let go of her jaw. She made nothing but weeping noises as she continued to cry and she finally closed her eyes, dangling from her binds, hooked to a chain in the ceiling, and she swung around in half-circles lazily with her toes scraping the floor. The skin was starting to turn raw. "Raiders murder, steal, _rape!_ A bunch of drugged-up hoodlums that wouldn't know the meaning of providing for a family when they only know how to provide for _themselves!_ You really think I'm going to steal from you? Hardly, as I have no reason to! I've got a nice home, I've got a beautiful wife and loving son, what more could a man ask for? You think I'm going to _rape _you?" Jack must have found this thought amusing, because he cackled with chipper laughter. The horror in her eyes must have answered his question, because he stopped laughing after a while and his broad grin returned.

"Well, no matter what _you _think. _I _know the person that I am, and that's all that matters!" He turned to a rolled up satchel that sat next to one of the mutilated corpses (the woman on the closest counter to Winona) and unfurled it, revealing a rollout of different medical tools. Scissors, forceps, tweezers, scalpels, syringes- _everything._ She began to flail again, her lazy swinging turning violent as she squirmed in her binds and her toes continued to scrape across the floor. She was using her toenails instead of the soles of her toes this time, and she could have sworn one chipped off when raw skin came into contact with the gritty floor, sending a shock of pain through her foot and she began to writhe more. Dust sprinkled on her from the ceiling, landing in her silvery hair and on her shoulders and arms.

"Pl- Please! Please, please, _please!_" She begged through whimpers and sniffles and hiccups, shaking her head back and forth in disbelief that this was happening to her as he came over with another rag and tied it around her head instead of just shoving it into her mouth, like before. He nodded when he was done with his work, looking over Winona's naked body with a glow on his face- more from the thought of a nice meal than having a young woman naked in front of him. She was almost glad that he wasn't going to rape her, but the _almost _came in when she _knew_ she couldn't take his word for it. Harriet said raiders were crazy- they raped, murdered, stole, enslaved, used drugs, tortured, and probably did even _more _than that. Winona was just learning that they liked to _eat _their victims, too.

Her mind drifted to Glasgow. His smile, the way the sun danced over his face, his sharp blue eyes behind his sunglasses… And then she remembered the last conversation they had. She closed her eyes as new tears began to form when she realized that was the last time she was ever going to speak to him, or Sir Sumner, Harriet, Widget…

The last time she spoke to her father registered in her mind. The night before he escaped, he tucked her into bed- and he hadn't done that in a few years, since she was a little girl. She thought it was peculiar, and she told him so.

"_Daddy?"_

"_Yes, Nona?"_

"_Is something the matter?"_

"…_Nothing's the matter."_

"_You paused. That was a pause."_

"_Just some paperwork the Overseer has been bothering me about… He's requesting that I turn it in as soon as possible."_

"_He works you too hard, daddy!"_

"_Don't I know it…"_ He smiled, almost nervously, and kissed her on the forehead, almost hesitantly. _"I'm going to be out in the office all night with Jonas. I may not be here when you wake up in the morning, so just get up, get showered and dressed, and eat breakfast without me, alright pumpkin?_"

Her eyes snapped wide open in realization.

"_I may not be here when you wake up in the morning."_

_May not be here when you wake up in the morning._

_Not be here when you wake up in the morning._

_Not here when you wake up in the morning._

_Not here when you wake up._

_**Not here.**_

Winona screamed behind her gag as the image of her father's weathered face in the darkness of her room shattered, and she began to thrash and squirm in her binding again, causing more dust to shower onto her from within the cracks of the peeling paint on the ceiling. Jack snapped his eyes to her over his shoulder, glaring impatiently as he pulled out a scalpel and stomped towards her, holding it up to her neck.

"You _stop _your squirming _right __**now**_ little missy," He held the sharp edge of the scalpel blade up to her neck and grinned. "Or I may just lose my temper and stop the fun early…"

Her eyes widened at him and she immediately stopped moving, returning to her lazy half-circle swings. All impatience leaked out of his face, and his rigid muscles relaxed. He smiled at her warmly.

"That's a good girl. Now, back to what I was saying… Do you believe that I'm a filthy man? That I'm going to rape you?"

She nodded quickly, not even bothering to think over her answer because she her heart was pounding and her blood was pulsing in her ears and her brain was like a wet flint, unable to spark a single thought to be pondered. He slapped her across the face, and suddenly everything stopped when all she saw were stars and Jack's distorted, grinning face in spotted darkness.

"Naughty, _naughty!_ Thinking ill thoughts like that! No, I'm not going to _rape _you." He pushed the scalpel deeper into the skin of her neck, and she was almost thankful that he was going to kill her as her battered and starry-eyed mind was slowly putting together the shattered picture of her father's smiling face with trembling fingers that wouldn't hold the pieces so they slipped away and broke again, or she wasn't putting it in the right place. His eye was on his forehead, his nose seemed to be on his chin- it was almost like a chopped up Picasso painting of someone she once knew and adored.

_I'm here because of __**you,**__ dad._ Winona thought bitterly, closing her eyes as the scalpel slid down her neck- deep enough to cause her to bleed, but not deep enough to kill her. Her happiness of letting it all end in the basement of a crazed man who had a hunger for human flesh was dashed when she opened her eyes and watched as his head ducked to her neck, feeling his thick, slimy tongue run across the cut to lap up her bubbling blood before suckling on the slit in her skin.

Jack pulled back with a content smack of his lips, and his tongue darted out to swipe at a dribble of blood that ran from the corner of his mouth.

"Got something sweet in you, darling… Very, _very _sweet… I think my family will like having you for dinner!" He chuckled, turning back to his medical satchel and Winona bowed her head to her chest, wishing that there was some way she could just _force _herself to die- like if there was some sort of switch in her brain she had never explored before and there was a label above it that said "To end it all, flip this switch" with an arrow pointing down and she _would _flip that switch and she _wouldn't_ feel a damn thing anymore. She didn't _want _to.

But that was when Jack came back with a glinting kitchen knife, holding it like a delicate instrument of destruction in his hands, and he pressed the sharp tip of it to her thigh- right below her hip.

"I'm sorry to say, missy, that the sweeter they are, the more they scream. And I _like _hearing them scream. I _could_ say that it won't hurt a bit, or I could even say that it _will,_ but not for _long._ I'm an honest man, though, so I won't lie to you," The knife began to dig into the meat of her thigh and she threw her head back with her eyes screwed shut, screaming in agony into her gag as the blade sawed back and forth through her skin. "_Because I'm just not that __**cruel…**_"

With the thatch of skin now detached from her thigh, he held it to his face like a wriggling worm- his hand shaking violently, like it did earlier when he had his hand on his gun- and tilted his head back, licking his lips with anticipation. The wriggling worm of skin dropped into the cavern of his mouth and disappeared from her sight as he slowly began to chew, looking back at her with his eyes dancing in amusement at her horrified expression with wide eyes, mouth agape behind her gag and she choked on the dry-heaves of her stomach again. It convulsed and retched in her midsection once more, trying to give her something to work with but it didn't help none.

That's when the door at the top of the stairs opened up and a woman called down the dank stairwell.

"Jack? We've got a visitor!"

Jack, losing his broad grin, swallowed his food and turned his eyes over his shoulder to the staircase with a growl of annoyance for having his meal interrupted.

"Who is it, _Linda sweetie?_" He asked in a chipper voice smothered in malice, and his knife lowered away from her thigh- dripping with her blood from the tip into her bile puddle on the floor and blood sweat down her leg from the missing plot of skin on her thigh.

"It's that young girl's father! He's asking about her, but I can't give him any answers," She called back in a tone that one would use to express hidden knowledge, or if you were trying to hint at something while trying to remain inconspicuous. "_Perhaps __**you**__ could come up here and-… __**Point him in the right direction.**_"

The grin returned to his face and he looked back at Winona, whose eyes were wide again and she shook her head energetically- she knew that look in his eyes. She _knew _what he was thinking.

"You know, I've never had a _preserved _meal, before… Never wondered much, neither. I wonder if it tastes mighty good. What do _you_ think, missy?" He laughed, placing his knife down on the counter and made sure her gag was on tight before making his way to the stairs. "Now don't you go anywhere! I'm not done with you yet. If you make any noise, I'll skin _him _first- _right_ in front of you, too. And then you can watch as my whole _family _gobbles him up before we do the same to _you._" He murmured before disappearing up the stairs, turned off the light to bathe her in darkness again, and the basement door at the top shut and locked.

Winona bowed her head again, shoulders tightening in pain from being hung up like that for so long and she started to cry again- not a withheld sob, but waves of wailing and unabashed tears that flowed down her cheeks and dropped from the point of her chin to explode on her toes in little bursts. She could hear muffled talking from upstairs- the voices of Jack and his wife Linda- along with another voice that was all too familiar that sent her head snapping up and she stared with hard, teary eyes at the stairs.

"_I am truly sorry to bother you, and so __**late **__nonetheless, Mr. Smith- but like your wife mentioned, I am looking for Winona. I would like to know if you have seen her._"

It was Sir Sumner.

_He- He's looking for me… __**He knows I'm here! He knows! **__He's coming to save me! Oh my God, Sir Sumner! __**Please! PLEASE!**__ I'm down here! __**I'm in the basement!**_

She struggled against the tight rope binding her wrists and looked up at the dust flaking from the ceiling, pattering her face but she ignored it as it got into her eyes, and her nose breathed it in like she was never going to breathe again. She continued to thrash and squirm and spin in place to no avail before she looked over at a cement block that had dislodged from the wall. It was only a few inches away from her.

She looked up at the ceiling again, blinking the dust away and she suddenly had an idea.

_If I could just __**reach **__that block…_ Her mind trailed off as she reached a foot toward it, her toenails almost scratching the side but it wasn't close enough. She began to swing back and forth, like a child would on a swing, and the short chain and hook that kept her on the ceiling squeaked as the little links ground against each other from the weight of her momentum. Back and forth, back and forth she went until her foot caught on the block and she kicked it over onto its side, skinning her toes against the rough edge of it in the process. She ignored the stinging pain as she swung over again and began to maneuver the heavy block towards her so it was almost under her. She stood up on it, using it as a pedestal so she could straighten herself up, removing the strain on her shoulders and she almost started crying again at how good it felt to get all the weight off of such a sensitive area. She tried to work her hand on the clasp of the hook the kept her ropes on it, but she was unable to. Her hands were too tightly bound.

_Well there goes __**that **__plan… If only I could get my gag off!_ She pushed against it with her tongue like she had done earlier, but it wasn't coming off this time. It was tied too tightly around her head, she couldn't do it.

"_Now don't you go anywhere! I'm not done with you yet. If you make any noise, I'll skin __**him**__ first- __**right**__ in front of you, too. And then you can watch as my whole __**family **__gobbles him up before we do the same to __**you.**__"_

Winona tensed up in fear and looked at the stairs.

_If I make noise loud enough that Sir Sumner could hear me, he'll be in danger! I can't make any noise… Not a __**sound.**_

_**And what? Let him walk away while you stay here and they carve you up like a Thanksgiving turkey?**_ A malicious voice, her _own _voice in her head, snapped back at her.

_But he'll be in danger! They'll hurt him!_

_**Gobble-gobble, you dumb bitch.**_

_Shut up!_ She sighed, closed her eyes and tried to think.

_**Look at it this way. If you make a loud enough noise, he'd find you and shit could be all fine and dandy. What if you do NOTHING? He could get in trouble, anyhow! What makes YOU think that they won't get him, too? What makes YOU think that they'll just let him walk away? What makes YOU think that they're NOT a bunch of gluttonous, cannibalized pricks and they will be nice enough to NOT eat him? They'll get Glasgow and Harriet, too. Who was the idiot that said, "the more the merrier," again?**_

_So he'll be in danger, either way?... They'll __**all**__ be in danger, either way?..._

_**Exactly! So, whaddya gotta do?**_

"_If you are to gain experience in the Wasteland, you must make choices that may not only affect just yourself, but a small number of people. Good or bad, experience is experience as long as you learn something valuable from it."_

Sir Sumner had told her that when she said she needed experience, and she was honest when she told him that he sounded just like her father… He _did_ remind her of her father in more ways than one, which was probably why she always clung to him.

That was what brought the big question.

She couldn't just roll over and take this beating- she _still _had to find her father. She was down in this cold basement, getting skinned alive because _she _was stupid and _she _was inexperienced and _she _wasn't thinking. It wasn't her dad's fault, it was hers by one-hundred percent. If she was to gain the experience so that she _wouldn't _make this mistake again, she'd have to live to gain this experience and she'd have to live to _not _make the stupid decision twice, now wouldn't she?

Winona moved her hands up, with the help of the added height of the block she was standing on, to wrap her fingers around the chain that now hung limply from the ceiling. She tugged on it hard to test it out, her heart brimming in her chest with spazztic sparks when an outraged cloud of dust showered onto her thickly.

_This doesn't look sturdy,_ she thought with a smile behind her lips. _If I could pull it out of the ceiling, I could get down!_

_**So what about the locked door? Ever thought of THAT?**_

_It doesn't matter. All I gotta do is __**scream.**_ She answered her own voice, continuing to pull down hard on the chain repeatedly, her grin growing behind her gag as she heard the groan of the chain come loose from its pin in the ceiling. She was almost there.

_**You need to add more weight,**_ Winona began to hear more voices from upstairs.

"_Where the __**fuck **__is she?"_ It was Glasgow.

"_Keep your voices, down! Our son is sleeping!"_ Linda demanded. _"And I will __**not **__have that sort of language being used in my **lovely** home!"_

"_Shut __**up**__ you fucking __**whore,**_" Harriet suddenly growled.

"_Harriet, that's enough." _Sir Sumner warned her sternly.

The conversation went on in the background of the gears of Winona's mind, grinding against one another as she thought of how to apply more weight. It was a simple question that came with an answer that was just as simple. She got a good grip on the chains, looked down at the block below her before looking back up and jumped, kicking the block away from her as she did so. Curling her legs up under her, when her jump lost momentum and she was plummeting back to the ground, her weight snapped on the chain and it dislodged from the ceiling so she landed on her side and elbow with chunks of plaster raining around her.

"_What was that?"_ Glasgow asked sharply.

"_Oh, it's nothing! We just have a little __**dog **__in the basement that doesn't seem to want to __**behave**__ like I told it to…_" Jack answered back. _"Linda, why don't you go upstairs and make sure Junior hasn't woken up while I finish talking with our guests."_

"_They are __**not **__allowed in my home…_" Linda murmured under her breath before stomping away. Winona knew what they were doing- they didn't want to be suspicious or attack because then they wouldn't be able to play the kind, hospitable and defenseless town.

"_A dog, you say?_" Sir Sumner inquired. _"May I enter your home and see this… __**Dog?**_"

"_I'm afraid not. Wife's orders."_

Winona pulled at the gag from her mouth, struggling to pry it off because it was too tight and the knot on the back was difficult to untie. She finally managed to shimmy away the stretched cloth so it hung around her neck and she propped herself up on an elbow, taking in a deep, shaky breath.

"_**GLASGOW!**_" She screamed, thinking of the first name that came to mind and everything just seemed to stop upstairs.

"…_That's a __**very **__interesting trick you've taught that dog of yours."_ Sir Sumner spoke acidly.

* * *

><p>Jack pulled out his .44 magnum, pointing it at Sir Sumner's head and he grinned.<p>

"What can I say? My little puppy has been disobedient all _darn _day! Just can't seem to get her to stop _whining._ Put a gag in her mouth and _everything._"

"How _fucking__** dare**_ you…" Glasgow snarled, stepping forward but Sir Sumner's hand stretched out to stop him.

"That won't be necessary, Glasgow." He smiled warmly, looking to him.

"_What?_" Harriet growled. "You _should _fucking let him tear that pathetic little waste of shit for brains a new asshole! We checked out the shack behind the Wilson's house, and these sick fucks carve up any poor saps that walk into this shithole and eat 'em for Sunday brunch!"

"I only stop Glasgow because I am positive that he has done quite enough to the family across the street."

Jack immediately went rigid, his smile disappearing and his eyes widened to saucers on his face. "..._What?_"

"I believe Harriet and Glasgow have adapted a certain _style_ when it comes to situations such as this. _"Take no prisoners,"_ as the saying aptly goes," He explained with the warm smile still on his face, but his eyes were piercing and cold- as deadly as the first winter snow to a plot of already wilting flowers. "Would you two care to tell our humble host what you have done to his brother?"

"Bill?" Harriet grinned with a hilarious snort. "Took a fucking bite out of that nasty fucker's hand, blew a leg off of him, too."

"Can't forget about turning his head to a fine-fucking-paste _either,_" Glasgow taunted.

"That was a fucking human sprinkler if I ever did see one," She nodded in agreement.

"You- you motherless _whore!_" Jack screamed at Harriet, strings of spit escaping from the corners of his mouth as he roared and his face flushed bright red in anger- the muscles of his neck turning taut. "You motherless _bitch _of a whore! I'll skin you _alive!_"

"_**GLASGOW!**_" Winona screamed again, and the called for ex-raider snapped his eyes over Jack's shoulder to the kitchen in alarm.

"_I told you to __**be **__quiet and __**stay **__quiet!_" Jack craned his head around just slightly to scream at Winona, but that was all Sir Sumner needed to launch his attack.

The old man took a brisk step forward and wrapped his palm around the length of the gun barrel, twisting it away so it was pointed at the wall. With that, his other hand came flying over, fingers wrapped into a tight fist, and the punch was brutally delivered to Jack's chest, knocking the air out of him while another punch was delivered to his throat, crushing his windpipe. He twisted the gun back and a loud crunch was heard as Jack's pointer finger, caught on the trigger, was bent back and broken. Sir Sumner slipped the gun out of his hand and Jack's own .44 magnum was pointed at his head.

"Get to your knees, Mr. Smith, and I may just decide not to end your life here and now, execution style. This is _just_ because I think that a man, _any _man, as vile as some of them may be, deserve to die a dignified death."

He responded to Sir Sumner's demand by crumpling to his knees while clutching his throat, wheezing and hacking for air due to his crushed windpipe before falling to his side, eyes rolled up in his skull as he thrashed about on the floor like a beached fish. The three simply watched.

"I think that's as close as you're gonna get. And _fuck _dignified death- I think we should slice him and dice him," Harriet growled, coming over and kicking him in the stomach. A wet crunch of his ribcage was music to her ears.

"Before we decide what to do with him, we must check on Winona." Sir Sumner pointed out, but Glasgow was already running past him to the kitchen.

"There's a door here! Got the same smell as the shack, hanging around!" There was a rattle. "Well _fuck _me! The door's locked."

"Break it down," The old man responded, but the ex-raider was already going to work and he turned to Harriet. "Bring Linda down here. Ignore the child."

"Sure thing," She grinned and ran up the stairs just as Glasgow finally kicked down the basement door, its splintered remains skittering down the basement steps.

"Doll?" Glasgow called as he came down the stairs, stepping over the large wooden fragments and brought an arm up to shield his nose from the sickening aroma that rapped him on the nose, and his eyes began to water behind his sunglasses. "Son of a _bitch!_ Oh, _God!_ This place smells worse than Stitches when he was working on another mother fucking _stiff!_"

"Gla- Glasgow?" Winona called out weakly.

"Doll!" He exclaimed, ignoring the carnage of the basement and ran towards her little huddled up spot in the corner. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her naked body cowering against the wall, her legs curled up to her chest haphazardly and her face was pushed into her bound palms as she sobbed. Her hair slid down her shoulders like silver curtains, falling between the small hills of her naked breasts. His eyes widened when his mind registered that blood was dripping from her thighs and he ran towards her, dropping to his knees in front of her and grabbed her by the shoulders. She thrashed against him and screamed, crying out for her father. She knocked his glasses off his face, but he ignored the stinging of his red cheek.

"Dollface! Dol- _Winona!_" He cried pleadingly and she immediately stopped, staring up at him with her wide, lavender eyes. He almost smiled, but he faltered when he saw the fear that lingered in them, and it seemed to dissolve into unnerving impassiveness when she recognized him.

"Gl- Glasgow?... Is tha- are you, _you?_" She asked, reaching out with her bound hands to touch his chest. "Is he _dead?_ Is Jack _dead?_"

"Not yet, but he will be soon," He finally allowed himself a small smile of relief and brushed her hair out of her eyes. "I'll make sure of it, okay?"

"_**No!**__ No…_ I wanna kill him!"

"Winona?" His smile disappeared and she dug her hands into the chest plate of his armor. Her nails squeaked over it, like nails on a chalkboard. This wasn't like her... This wasn't like Winona.

"I- I want to _kill_ him! Make him bleed, carve away his skin and make _him_ scream! He liked hearing me scream and oh _God!_ I'm _inside _him! He _ate _me! He peeled my skin like a piece of fruit and he _ate_ me! I'm just a piece of fruit… A piece of fruit without any skin… No skin, no skin, no _skin…_"

"_Hey!_ Doll, it's going to be okay! Now _what _did he do to you?" He looked down at her naked body, trying to keep his eyes off of the delicate area between her legs but he _had _to look. When he came downstairs and saw blood dripping from her thighs, he thought that Jack had-… Had _raped _her. He thought the blood had come from the act of taking her virginity. He didn't know if he was more or less happy when he discovered that the blood was actually coming from a missing patch of skin on her thigh- as long as his hand from the tip of his middle finger to his wrist and it was two inches wide. There was also a little sliver of a cut on her neck, right over the throb of her pulse.

_He was __**eating **__you…_ He looked down into her twitching face, her cheeks wet with tears and she shoved her face into her palms again, continuing to sob.

"You don't need to answer… I know, okay?" He responded gently, rubbing up and down her arms gently to soothe her. "I know what he did to you. We'll ask Sumner if you can kill him, but for right now we need to clean you up. Here, how about we start with this?" Not wanting to risk pulling out his knife to cut her binds and scare her even more, he dug his fingers into the tight ropes tied around her wrists and pulled at them with all his might. They came apart with a thick _snap_ and fell into her lap, the chain going with it, and she didn't even bother to rub the pain from her indented and red wrists. He then wrapped his arms around her neck and untied a cloth that was no doubt used as a gag, letting it fall into her lap as well.

"See? Doesn't that feel better?"

She didn't nod. She just continued staring into the chest plate of his armor at her dull reflection. Only blinking, but not saying a word and her hair fell into her face again. He brushed it back behind her ear, cupping her cheeks in his hands and forced her to look up at him.

"They are _not _going to get you. I won't let them… But I guess I'm not someone who should be watching after you..." His mind went straight to the guilty pleasure that he immersed himself in not too long after she had gone outside. If he hadn't been a fucking idiot, he would have been _watching _her like he was supposed to and none of this would have happened in the first place!

Winona didn't ask what he meant, but at that moment Harriet called from the top of the stairs.

"You got the princess?"

"Yeah! But can you get me a towel, or a blanket or _something?_ Dollface is stark-naked here!"

There was a shuffle as Harriet hurried away to find what he had asked for- without arguing with him, and he silently thanked her- but then, Winona began to giggle under her breath. He looked back at her to see a faraway smile cast on her thin lips.

"De- Dear Daddy," She sniffled, her smile widening but it still had that distant look in them- as if she wasn't all there. "I got t- turned into a piece of _fruit_, today…"

…_Oh shit._

* * *

><p>Harriet went up the basement stairs two by two with Glasgow and Winona following. Glasgow had an arm wrapped around Winona's shoulders protectively and she tugged the blanket Harriet found even tighter around her with her bangs falling into her face. Glasgow held her possessions in his free hand, as it was placed messily on one of the counters in Jack's hungry haste to undress her. The three stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room where Jack lay on the floor, his throat sliced open and his wife Linda lay sprawled at his side with her arm thrown over his stomach, a combat knife sticking out of her eye socket. The second floor railing on the small landing was bent outward and broken, littering the dirty carpet with thorns and splinters of wood.<p>

"Found her hiding in her closet in the bedroom," Harriet explained over her shoulder. "Didn't even look in on her fucking kid or _nothing-_ just went straight to hiding to save her shitty little life. Grabbed the bitch by her hair and threw her over the railing when she pulled a knife on me and- well, I think you can guess the rest of _that _story…" She came and stood next to Sir Sumner as he flicked blood off from his sword and sheathed it on his hip.

"We will loot the houses for anything useful later. We still need to find Mr. Harris and decide what will become of the children." He declared.

"_What?_ Why are those little punks _our _fucking problem?"

"Because I believe we murdered their parents so they _are _our problem, Harriet." He snapped impatiently. "Killing these cannibals may have done the Wasteland a world of good, but it does not help _them._ We are going to do the best we can because we _are _responsible." He argued.

"C'mon, doll, we'll take you back to the house and get you bandaged up, then you can get some sleep. Does that sound good? We'll watch over you, okay?" Glasgow spoke as he walked her by Jack's corpse, but she stopped to stare down at him with a blank look in her face. "Winona?"

The ex-raider using her first name instead of her appointed nickname, and in such a _worried _tone, nonetheless, caused Harriet and Sir Sumner to look up. They saw how she stared at Jack's body before her face contorted into one of hateful recognition, and she began to snarl like a feral dog.

"I- I _hate _yo- you…" She murmured under her breath, her nails digging into the blanket wrapped around her.

"Princess?" Harriet called in a small voice that sounded barely above a whisper.

"You wanna te- tell me about _all _the d- di- different ways you were going to _eat _me? _Huh?_" She took a haste step towards his lifeless body, and Glasgow didn't know if holding her back was a good idea. "You wanna tell me about how I was never going to get _out _of your _basement?_ Maybe tell me about how you just _love _hearing me scream? You- Y- You _bast-stard!_ I _never _got to hear you scream! Why did you get a quick death while _I _was supposed to be skinned alive? _Huh? __**HUH?**_" She kicked his side before repeatedly stomping down on his chest and face. "_Why don't you __**scream?**__ Scream for me! __**SCREAM for me like I screamed for YOU!**_"

"Glasgow, get her out of here!" Sir Sumner demanded, staring in horror.

"Doll, _c'mon!_" He wrapped an arm around her waist, picking her up off her feet and she thrashed against him, managing to kick Jack again in the process. Her blanket came undone, hanging over his arm wrapped around her waist, and her naked body glinted in the moonlight as he took her from the Smith residence.

"_**Scream for me, DAMN you! SCREAM for me! SCREAM FOR ME!**_" She howled, her bellows echoing into the night as the sun came up as a warm orange sphere over the horizon, but it would never burn away the blood that wept from the mouths of the Wilson and Smith households.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey everyone, just another quick author's note for a few things I wanted to say, but I didn't want to post them at the top because I thought it would ruin the chapter and wouldn't give it that "wow" factor if I spoiled it before you even read it xD**

**First things, first; I know that the people of Andale have their victims fully clothed on the counters in-game while slicing and dicing, but come-ON! It's just not realistic! So I made Winona naked during that scene. The part with Jack licking her neck WAS meant to be an intimate sort of action, but not rape-intended, or even sexually-intended because it was obvious he didn't WANT sex from her! Just the whole scene in general was more of a grotesque-intimate mental image for you, as the reader xD**

**Second thing; Boy, did I love playing around with a lot of the insults Glasgow and Harriet were dishing out this chapter o_o But pardon if any of it seems ridiculous or strange for the situation. Most of it was the cold-medicine talking... Also, I dunno, I just adore writing crazy talk. I don't think that the residents of Andale are CRAZY, persay. The way they think and act, and other than claiming to live in the best place in all of Virginia, they're just not... Crazy. Cannibals, yes, crazy, no. Even so, I couldn't help but write Bill (or Willy, as his nickname is in-game) this way because I believe that within a group of siblings there is always one that's just a little more unstable than the other(s). Like my brother and I, I always win the unstable-sibling-contest xD I think it's the stuff I write... Like this. Also, I think the dialogue was good in this chapter overall, so comment on how you think the dialogue was, would you kindly?**

**Third thing; Do you think Winona will _ever_ be the same after this?**

**...Ye-_aaaah._ Neither do I.**

**Fourth thing; About Winona sort of "thinking" to herself in the scene where she's trying to escape, this isn't like some kind of split-personality sort of thing. Just her small, bad-girl side giving the good-girl side of her a pep-talk, you know? Everyone has one, it's all just a matter of deciding which one wins in certain situations. Her "bad side" will be resurfacing quite a bit after this, especially because when one is acquainted with the Capital Wasteland, one is not just a good person. And I don't mean in-game, I mean if the world was ACTUALLY thrown into a nuclear apocalypse, I don't think there would be any good people because good people got popped in the chops... Unless they don't take shit from nobody... Or have a bigger gun than the bad guys... Then you're screwed right THAR.**

**So that's the end of Adventure in Andale! Coming up next is Butch's chapter, but I don't know when that will be posted. I wish I could promise you guys that I will have Butch's chapter posted next week, but I don't promise anyone anything unless I am at least, like 80-something percent SURE that I can do it. And even then the 20-something percent of uncertainty still manages to tank me and make me its bitch... So, yeah. -shrugs-**

**Just imagine good stuffs will happen from here on out while you wait patiently, 'cause it's not getting any better. Trust me.**

**Oh, and about people that are all-for GlasgowxWinona pairing? Yeah, I've kinda grown sweet on 'em too xD GLASGOW IS A SEXY BEAST IN MY MIND! But this is still a ButchxWinona fic. Just, not until later... SEXYBEASTGLASGOW BE BREWING UP SOME ANGST IN THIS SHIT, YO!**

**...AND THAT IS ALL I HAVE TO SAY ON THE MATTER.**

**(But seriously, GLASGOW-FANS UNITE! xD I wanna see how many of them are out there!)**

**Again, to _all_ of you-**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**


	29. CHP 29: The Child of a Real Man

**A/N: Hey guys! I know I haven't been around for a long time, and I am ABSOLUTELY SORRY! Words cannot DESCRIBE the unpleasant emotions that are plaguing me right now T_T" But, I've been friggin' SICK for the past week, I feel like I'm riding on the brink of death due to whatever illness I contracted, and I decided to use my sick days to write up these chapters :D HURRAH!**

**Now, I'm sorry to those of you who have been reading "Another War For Your Textbook" because you haven't gotten a chapter in a long time, and one will be posted SOON because I am almost DONE but Madison Li is LITERALLY a bitch to write for =_= So yeah :3 And the third and final chapter for "Back in the Black Bayou" is ALMOST finished, so that's another thing to look forward to!**

**Also, I downloaded the G.E.C.K. to my computer because I wanted to teach myself how to MOD and such! So as my first mod, I was actually going to make a custom companion and post it on the Fallout 3 Nexus for you all to use, but unfortunately, G.E.C.K. is laggy as SHIT-ALL and crashes a lot, so it is probably not going to happen. But my plan was to make a fully-voiced character, not tied to any quest or whatever, but he had a back story that you could explore, you could talk with him about other stuff other than tactics (like his advice on certain towns/cities/locations/factions/items, etc.) as if he were your own personal advisor, and I had a "romance mini-quest" put off to the side for female players to tap into because I know some of you wanted romance in F3 . But alas, the G.E.C.K. sucks and I don't want to end up destroying my computer in a sicky-rage =_=**

**So, with that, I leave you all :D But as a last note, not much happens in this chapter except a little more personal back story from Butch. Cool stuff will happen in the NEXT Vault chapter, so don't worry! Action will come soon, and THANK YOU SO MUCH to those who have reviewed thus far, and have stayed even longer for this boring-ass chapter ._.**

**You're all friggin' awesome, seriously 3 I hope the next chapter will make up for my absence when you get to see how Winona fairs from her recent culture-shock straight from the Wasteland's favorite cannibals! Also, check out "Saving Me," because I just updated that as well.**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Butch sat on a clinic desk, nails digging into the edge of it as he bit his teeth down onto his lower lip. Old Lady Palmer, with her frail, trembling hands, was desperately trying to remove a sliver of broken brown glass jutting out above his knee cap. Her hand held the gleaming metal tweezers, pinching the brown glass between its blunt teeth, and when she would try to slowly pull it out, her hand would jerk and it would feel like the shard was being driven deeper in. After a few tries and <em>many<em> frustrated sighs, she got to her feet from her knees, tucked her grey hair behind her ear, and looked down at him with the tweezers in her hand.

"I'm sorry, Butch. I need to get someone else to do this for me—I'll be right back with Edwin." She spoke, placing the tweezers down on the table at his side and turned to walk out of the clinic office.

Andy flittered towards him from where he hovered idle in the corner, diffusing steam in little wispy bursts, and you could hear more than see, as he came gliding over.

"Mr. DeLoria, I believe I said that I would be able to perform this operation myself. I do not need assistance!" The Mr. Handy cried defiantly, his metallic feathers obviously in a ruffle. His circular band saw blade began to rev up. "All I need to do is amputate the limb…"

"_No!_" He exclaimed, pulling his injured leg back to only have pain shoot up through his flesh and muscles. He cringed, bit back a yowl of pain, and carefully settled back onto the desk until the pain was nothing more than a dull ache of a throb. "'Ya probably don't think so, since you _don't_ have legs, but I think my legs are pretty damn awesome and I like 'em where they are—_**still attached to my body.**_"

"Well I _never…_" Andy murmured defensively before retrieving back to his corner, allowing Butch to have some quiet time to himself to think for the first time since about an hour ago.

He had left the clinic to check in on his mom, and she was drunk, which was no surprise to him, and _very_ angry, which was no surprise to him again, either. When she barked at him, demanding an answer as to what he was doing there, he answered honestly—just to come in and check in on her. She threw a _giant _hissy fit, spewing intelligible profanity, spitting on his boots, swinging fists that hit nothing but open air before she screamed at him to get out. She said he was with _them,_ the _Rebels—_ then she called him a disappointment and said he didn't _deserve_ to live in the same house as her if he was going to be an idiot. She said she had enough of his "delinquent bullshit" before heaving her beer bottle at him, which missed and shattered on the floor, but in his attempt to run away he slipped and landed right in the bed of broken glass. He was lucky that the only thing imbedded in him right now was the chunk of brown glass above his knee, but that was if you excluded the solid weight of dread and hurt pitted in the core of his heart.

Butch's mother had never said anything like that—out of _all _her drunken fits, out of all the times she hit him to get him to behave or yelled at him when she meant to only "scold," _**never**_ had she called him a disappointment. Never had she called him undesirable as a child, never had she said she didn't want him anymore— _never _did she call him a fucking _screw up,_ as hard as that would be for some people to believe.

For once in his life, when he felt like he was doing something somewhat right (even though it was mostly for his own selfish needs—he didn't want to be in the Vault any longer), he was being told that he was a _disappointment?_

The Serpent King felt that what hurt most about that statement is that he was _always_ told that alcohol is a truth serum. Drunkards never lie. So what hurt the most was that his mom was… She was telling the _truth_ when she called him a fuck up.

The pit in his heart welled up and he bit down on his lip harder. His head hung down, lower than his shoulders and he scrunched his eyelids tightly shut, gripping the edge of the desk even more.

_Well I hope 'ya remember the one who __**raised **__this __**fuck up**__ the next time your head-first and knee-deep in your bottle, ma._ He thought bitterly, and he could feel himself baring his teeth in anger when the door suddenly slid open.

"_Whoa!_ What happened here?" Mr. Brotch exclaimed in shock, stepping into the clinic office with wide eyes.

"Butch had a little… _accident, _with some glass. He came limping into the clinic a few minutes ago, and I am trying my _darnedest _to remove that piece of glass in his knee but I just can't seem to _do _it. These old hands aren't what they _used_ to be! I can't keep them steady!" Old Lady Palmer exclaimed, her hands clasped together in front of her.

Butch snapped his head up when Brotch came over and knelt down in front of him. When his teacher reached out a hand to his injured leg, the Serpent King flinched back and so did he, which caused him to look up at his teacher.

"I just wanna take a look, DeLoria. I'll try to make sure it doesn't hurt too much."

After a moment of thought, Butch relaxed and nodded his head without saying a word, allowing Brotch to look at his leg. Brotch took his leg by the knee and carefully inspected the wound.

"Lucy, I can take of Butch. Sew him up and everything, if that's alright."

"Of course, if you could?" She asked politely. "Freddie was bitten by a radroach earlier and I still haven't had the chance to look at him."

"Go ahead," The teacher absentmindedly nodded his head as he got up and so he could reach the tweezers from Butch's side, then looked over his shoulder at the old woman. "How about you take Andy with you? Since he's technically the "Vault Physician," he should get some basic knowledge about the little cuts and scrapes."

"I think I know _just _fine how to go about a bite from a radroach!" Andy exclaimed in his corner, hovering forward to the three.

"Not _everything_ can be solved by hacking something off, Andy…" Brotch cocked his brow as he knelt down with the tweezers in front of Butch and slowly, but steadily, began pulling out the glass shard.

Old Lady Palmer and Andy left the office, leaving Brotch to work on his student's injury.

"…An accident, huh?" He asked after some time of silence. "I don't see how this could have been an accident, but you never know. Or do you, Butch?" He didn't even look up from his work, and his voice was mellow and calm— as if he trying to strike up a conversation about Vault baseball or the shitty pudding cups in the cafeteria.

"Whaddya talkin' about?"

"This is glass from a _brown_ bottle, and the only brown glass we have down here is from beer and vodka bottles." Brotch finally looked up at him, once the glass was finally removed and Butch had to grind his teeth together because he didn't want to let the pain show in his face.

"You drivin' at somethin'?" He snapped bitterly— almost half-heartedly, if you were listening carefully. "'Cause if you are, just spit it out. Stop screwing around."

"Did your mother do this to you?" He finally asked bluntly, turning back to his work to set the tweezers down when he picked up a needle and thread. Butch tensed. He was _not_ going to enjoy this part… It happened when he had sliced his palm open doing a trick with his switchblade, Toothpick, but it wasn't so bad then. The cut hadn't been _this_ deep.

"Old Lady Palmer said it was an _accident,_ didn't she?" He shot back, watching as Brotch threaded the needle.

"What happened?"

"Tripped 'nd landed on some broken glass." He shrugged. "Ain't a big deal."

"That doesn't explain where the broken glass came from."

"…I was drinking." Butch replied quietly, wincing as the needle was finally threaded through and Brotch grabbed for his leg again.

"I wouldn't put it past you to drink Mr. DeLoria, but I don't think you did this to yourself. Accident or otherwise." The older man looked up at him. "You're going to have to remove your jumpsuit."

"The _fuck_ I _am!_" The Serpent King yelled.

"It's so I can do a better job of stitching you up. I'm not exactly looking forward to my student undressing in front of me, either." He answered with his brows furrowed together.

"Just make the hole bigger 'er somethin'…" He muttered. "Rip it, or cut it up or somethin'. I don't care, I gotta million more jumpsuits at home."

But then, he remembered that he _couldn't_ go back "home." His mother wouldn't allow it.

"_I'm __**tired**__ of yer bullshizz! Git 'da __**fack**__ outta my apartment 'ya useless __**brat!**__ Wish I never __**had **__'ya! Yer dad mighta stayed!"_

Whenever his mom drank, she would forget that his father never left her— he had died when Butch was just four. He was working with old Stanley Armstrong when he took a long tumble down a flight of stairs in the reactor level and hit his head pretty hard when he reached the bottom. He was in a coma for a few days before he finally passed away in his comatose. Sometimes, Butch would lay awake at night and think about his father and what he remembered most about him. He remembered that his father had clear blue eyes, which Butch inherited, and a thick head of jet black hair, which Butch _also_ inherited, and a really deep laugh that was louder than the water purifier in the lower levels. He was kind, and his hands were always rough and calloused, and his father used to pick him up and put him on his lap and read him stories… Sometimes, Butch also wondered what life would be like for him, right now, if his father hadn't taken the tumble and died.

He wondered if his mom would still be an alcoholic.

He wondered if he would have gotten straight A's in Brotch's class.

He wondered if he would have gotten the same result as he did on the G.O.A.T. exam.

But most of all, he would wonder if anything would have changed at all if his dad were still around.

_Probably not…_ He thought a little sadly. _I'd probably still be a screw up. __**He**__ would have seen me as a screw up. He'd be disappointed in me, too—just like ma._

"DeLoria? Are you asleep?"

Butch removed his arm from his eyes and lifted his head just slightly, opening his eyes to look back at Brotch who was standing in the doorway with all the other supplies he needed to continue work on his leg.

"Heh, didn't think so." He smiled slightly as he came over to resume his work. "I didn't think that your injury wasn't painful enough where you could fall asleep."

"You gonna hurry up and fix me or are 'ya gonna keep talkin'?" Butch snapped, sitting himself up and Brotch frowned.

"You know, a "thank you" instead of that attitude of yours could go a long way."

"My attitude seems _just fine_ to me." He answered smugly as his teacher sighed and got down to eye level with his knee to begin cutting away some of the fabric.

"You say that _now,_ Butch…" He spoke quietly, and the Serpent King realized that the older man had used his _first_ name instead of his last name like he usually did. "But the Vault isn't how it used to be. You can't just _skate on by_ with a smart mouth and some hair gel. People are fighting and separating themselves from one another, they're getting injured, and worse—they're _dying._" He turned his eyes up to Butch. "You can't play the leader with nothing on your shoulders anymore, Butch, but know this—you can either continue working for yourself, or you can man up and help the rest of us."

"I'm _all _man!" Butch snarled.

"A _child_ is selfish. A man gives." He answered calmly as he took away the last few flaps of cloth from the knee of his jumpsuit and put down his scissors to pick up his needle. "I remember your father—"

"Don't you say _nothin'_ bad 'bout my old man!" He boomed, causing Brotch to flinch back in surprise.

"I wasn't going to say _anything_ bad about your father, Butch." He relaxed himself. "In fact, even if I _wanted_ to say something bad about him, I couldn't. He never did a bad thing in his life and he never did anybody wrong. He was a great man."

Butch went quiet; mostly because Brotch began pushing the needle through his skin to start sewing him up and he was afraid that if he talked, he would whimper or whine in pain instead of say something conversation-worthy.

"Your dad and I were in the same class together when _my_ old man was still teaching. I didn't have a lot of friends—kept to myself with books and homework and such, so I got picked on a lot. I was walking to the cafeteria for lunch one day, my nose buried in a book on the way there when I was shoved against the wall by Susie's father—Allen. He threatened to beat me up if I didn't tell my dad to not give us so much homework. Now, I told him I couldn't do that, and he punched me in the face. Gave me a fat lip."

Brotch took a moment of silence, as if he were contemplating what to say next as he tightened a stitch in Butch's injury. This made him wince with pain, and he bit down on his bottom lip.

"Your father came running down the hall and shoved Allen away from me. He said he was going to tell his mother if he laid another hand on me. Now, back then, your father was bigger than the rest of us kids—always had been, which kinda made it more terrifying when he threatened you instead of just knocking your block off like you _knew _he could have. Allen backed away and left, and your dad helped me up. I wanted to pay him back, and I said I could help him with his homework, get him some extra pudding at the cafeteria, help him clean his room—whatever. But he refused any help I wanted to give him."

"You trynna teach me some kinda _life lesson,_ Brotch?" Butch asked through clenched teeth as Brotch pulled another stitch. He was almost done with the row and would have to tie it up soon.

"You tell me when I'm done with my story." He answered nonchalantly. "The point is, is that even at that young of an age, your father had more courage in him than I ever saw in _anybody_ in this entire Vault. He helped others for no reason at all—he didn't ask for anything in return, and sadly, I never asked him why he never did before he died… So I've always told myself that it was because he wasn't selfish. Not in the slightest."

Brotch turned over and grabbed the medical scissors as he tied up the knot on the stitching and cut away the excess thread.

"A child is selfish, and a man gives. Even as a child, your father was a man because he knew how to give but he never knew how to receive in return. Who have you helped, Butch? Since the Vault went to hell, have you helped anyone but yourself?"

Brotch turned to leave the room when Butch called out behind him.

"I _did_ help somebody."

The older man stopped and turned around, waiting for the rest of his answer.

"I tried helpin' Paul… He got bit up real bad by radroaches."

"…I see." He answered quietly. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"No you ain't…" Butch answered half-heartedly.

"Now why wouldn't I mean that?" His thick brows furrowed together. "Paul wasn't my brightest student, but he was a good kid even though he got tangled up with your Tunnel Snake business. You could have been a good kid too, Butch."

The Serpent King shot him a tired look. He didn't want his old school teacher reading him the Riot Act for the millionth time.

"…But we got something bigger on our hands. And I've got one last homework assignment for you."

"I ain't up for no Algebra, teach." He answered bitterly.

"This isn't Algebra, or Science, or anything to do with English." He answered matter-of-factly. "Your homework assignment is to help the Vault."

Butch's face twisted up in an expression of confusion. "And why should I do that?"

Brotch smiled slightly. "Because it's what your father would have done."

"Well I _ain't_ my old man!"

"I didn't say you were," He shook his head and turned to leave. "But I can't tell you how much I look at you and see him, DeLoria. Believe it or not, I was easy on you when class was in session, just because you were your dad's kid, so I didn't put my foot down on his delinquent kid's head."

"...Why's that?" He asked with mild curiosity.

"Because I respected your dad, and although you came to be a pain over the years, I learned that there were times when I could respect you, too."

Brotch left the room, and Butch was left to his own thoughts—wondering why he wasn't given a reading of the Riot Act for the millionith time, but instead given a little more than good looks from his father.

He felt that he was finally given some respect.


	30. CHP 30: Learn How To Survive

**A/N: I REALLY like how this came out, even though I felt that most of the detail I put into it is repetitive 8Y Also, I apologize for any errors I make in this chapter because I am still kinda sick (I'VE GOTTEN BETTER, I SWEAR! And I have Mr. Blackwater to thank for that ;3 Thanks, sweetness! -heart-)**

**In this chapter you will find a small glimpse of Harriet's past before encountering the life of a bodyguard, a little more of frantic-crazy Winona and her "bad girl" streak that you may or may not remember seeing in the last Winona-based chapter, a (sorta) comeback for her and a protective Glasgow (D'AW!)**

**Yeah, I love Glasgow, but only 'cause he's a smug, sarcastic, smart-assed bastard that I'm sure most of you have come to enjoy with the progressing chapters. Sure, Winona and Glasgow possibly together would be interesting to see, but I don't like them as a couple :T Sorry. Had to say it. Winona was written for Butch, and Glasgow was written to be a horny fuck that will be forever alone. It's that simple xD**

**SORRY IF I CRUSHED ANY OF YOUR WINONAxGLASGOW DREAMS! D:**

**Anywho, on with the chapter! I hope you guys enjoy, and if you DID, don't be afraid to hang around for a little while longer and drop a review about how much you LOVED this chapter, or maybe about how I could improve my writing for the future.**

**Stay awesome, guys!**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Sir Sumner stood at the mouth of the cave, placing his wide-brimmed hat on his head to block out the late afternoon sun. He sighed, and turned back to see Harriet sitting cross-legged on the ground, cleaning her combat shotgun and Glasgow sat on a rock, slouched forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands loosely clasped together. He stared into the core of them blankly, as if he were looking into nothing at all.<p>

The sun was high in the sky, warming up the cool morning that awakened everything in the Capital Wasteland. Only a few hours ago had the three rescued Winona from the Smith's basement and Sumner had helped Mr. Harris take the bodies of the Smiths and the Wilsons out to the shed behind the Wilson's house. The children knew that their parents were dead, and they believed that it was because the people that they had let into their small town killed them for money. It was better that the children believed that for now instead of knowing the truth—Mr. Harris said he would tell them when they were older. They left Andale immediately after that, and the bodyguards were thankful that they didn't encounter anything that they needed to kill until they reached an empty cave in the rocky hillside somewhere near Fairfax Ruins. They laid out a mattress for Winona, and after struggling to calm her down, she finally went to sleep.

It was only a matter of time before she woke up, screaming amidst her nightmares of the gruesome experience in Jack Smith's basement, and none of the three could say that they were prepared for it.

"What else do you think they did t'her?" Harriet asked after some time, glancing to the shadowed frame of the slumbering Winona.

"You mean _other_ than _skin_ her and _eat _whatever they cut off in front of her?" Glasgow barked as he buried his face into his hands and inhaled deeply.

"Was there any sign of sexual force, Glasgow?" Sumner asked sternly from his spot just outside the mouth of the cave. He pulled for his binoculars on his belt, brought them to his eyes and began scanning the area. When they decided to take refuge in the cave, Glasgow gave strict warning about the Fairfax ruins—he remembered a large Raider group taking home there amongst all the old buildings. If they caught anything suspicious, or just decided to explore, they might come poking around the vicinity of the cave.

"I thought he mighta raped her at first," He sighed and removed his hands from his face to flop back on the couch. "But the blood on her leg was from that wound she has. She didn't say that the sick bastard touched her."

"Yeah, but the way she was talkin'…" Harriet glanced up at him. "My _shit_ makes more sense than _she_ did! What was all that talk about her bein' a fruit?"

"It most likely has to do with her being skinned," Sumner contemplated aloud. "She is trying to compare her experience to one that is not seen as so devastating so she may be able to recover from it."

"…What are we gonna do?" Glasgow questioned solemnly.

"You mean when the princess wakes up?"

"No—_Burke._"

Harriet went white-faced, her good eye snapping up to Sumner who lowered his binoculars from his eyes with a contemplative expression settling over the wrinkles of his face.

"What're we gonna do when we bring Winona back and he sees how fucked in the _head_ she is?" He demanded to know as he slumped back against the cave wall and stared up at the rocky ceiling. "We fucked up. I don't even wanna _know_ what he's gonna do…" He wiped his face down and sighed, his hand falling back into his lap.

"Only reason why you're shitting a brick is 'cause it's mostly _your_ fault," Harriet snapped.

"Harriet, now isn't the time." Sumner warned, turning away from the window to step towards them. "Will supplying Glasgow with all the blame change anything?"

"But I'm not fucking _wrong,_ _**am I?**_" She shot back acidly, and pointed at Glasgow, who had said and done nothing despite her harsh accusations. "_He_ let her go outside, _he_ wasn't watchin' her 'cause _he_ was in the bathroom whackin' his pants' monkey!"

"No matter—putting the blame on Glasgow will not change what happened."

"You want _my_ opinion?" She pulled herself up from the floor with her combat shotgun in hand. "She's gonna have to fucking suck it _up._ She _ain't_ in the Vault anymore, she's gonna need a God-damned clue if she thinks she can still do whatever the hell she likes out here. It's her fault as much as it is Glasgow's—we told her to stay where we could see her, we warned her about being alone, and she didn't fucking _listen._ Shit happens, it coulda been worse, and she needs to get over it."

"Like how you got over Nicklaus?" Glasgow asked snidely, finally tilting his chin down to look at her with glassy eyes.

Harriet's head spun around as if it were positioned on ball bearings, with her eye wide with shock.

"_What_ did you say?" She hissed through gritted teeth.

"Admit it. It's been _years_ since you last even _heard_ 'bout Nicklaus and I bet you still look over your shoulder to make sure he isn't there." His sharp eyes narrowed dangerously.

The moment the words passed his lips, Harriet had dropped her shotgun and was already flying through the air in a pounce to land on him. Surprised that she actually attacked, he tried to move out of the way which caused the assault to be brought to the floor with him flat on his back and her sitting on his stomach. Her trembling hands clasped around his throat, jagged and filthy nails digging into his skin and the pads of her thumbs were forced down below the bobbing Adam's apple of his gullet.

"_Say his name again, and I will __**mutilate**__ your fucking legs and toss you ass-first into the nearest __**fucking**__ metro station so those giant feral __**night lights**__ can make you for an easy meal!_" She lifted his head up and slammed it back down on the ground. "_I __**dare **__you to fuckin' say that bastard's name again!_"

"That's enough!" Sumner demanded, walking back into the cave to pull the two apart when Glasgow's rolled fist rounded up and impacted with the side of her temple, disorientating her so she went sprawling into the old man's arms. He roughly brought Harriet to her feet before grabbing Glasgow by the collar of his armor and hauling him to a standing position. When she tried to charge at the ex-raider, Sumner threw his arm out and pushed her back. "I said that is quite _enough!"_

"_That's a shitty blow, even for __**you!**_" She boomed, and pointed sharply at Glasgow.

"You're a bitch _and_ a hypocrite for sayin' that Winona needs to suck it up when _you're_ still scared that Nicklaus could find you," Glasgow barked, rubbing his throat. "Who do you think you _are, _trynna pull shit like that?"

"I just know how it fucking is, and if the princess doesn't get the _fuck_ over it, it's gonna jeopardize our jobs even more!" She shoved herself away from Sumner, tensely mumbled out a _"don't __**fucking **__touch me"_ and went to her bag, prying the zipper apart so she could pull out her pack of cigarettes.

"Where do you think you're going?" Sumner demanded, keeping an arm out in front of Glasgow to make sure he didn't try anything.

"What the fuck does it _look_ like?" She stomped towards the mouth of the cave and hopped down the rocky terrain. "I'm goin' for a fucking smoke! My head's _pounding._"

Sumner sighed and looked at Glasgow, shooting him a disappointed look.

"Don't gimmie that!" He exclaimed angrily, throwing a hand to where Harriet took her leave. "She doesn't have any _right_ sayin' shit like that when _she_ isn't even over what happened t'her!"

"Miss Parker and Harriet are two completely different cases." He explained, folding his arms over his chest. "Miss Parker is delicate—a young woman who has come out of a Vault, where she had remained for nineteen years and she has had her first culture shock out in the Wasteland. Harriet was born out _here,_ and she is not delicate by any means, but the abuse that she dealt with started from the time that she was seven and she battled it up until she was thirteen. It's been seven years since then and it may seem like a lot of time to you, but taking on all the physical and mental abuse that Harriet has sustained will take much longer than that, and the scars will be ever-lasting in more ways than _one_."

"You're trynna _justify_ the shit she said about Winona?" He yelled. "You know she's been after her ever since we took her on from Burke, and you _know _it!"

"That is only because she sees _herself_ in Miss Parker." He stated. "Harriet sees herself, the battered and tortured part of herself in Miss Parker and she does not know how to come to terms with it."

"That doesn't excuse anything! I was with the Raiders for twelve years! I've seen every fucked up thing you could ever imagine out here!"

"Yes, but the difference between you and Harriet is that she _endured _pain while you _inflicted_ it upon others—_and you __**enjoyed**_ _it._"

Glasgow let out a low, throaty growl before turning his face away in defeat, his hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as if he didn't know how to position himself. He knew Sumner was right—he was a sadistic prick, but he had encaged that part of himself when he broke away from the Raiders and became a bodyguard. He worked his way up the chain, bagging and tagging his targets until he caught the attention of a few high-rollers and he walked straight into Burke's field of interest. He did work for him and him _only_ ever since.

The silence of the cave was pierced by a high-pitched whine that turned into a whimper from the very back of it, and it suddenly went quiet before Winona's screams echoed throughout the cave.

"Shit!" Glasgow cut his eyes to Winona and ran to her. She had thrown herself of her mattress with all her failing, the thin sheets were haphazardly tangled around her legs and she thrashed about. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut with jewels of tears streaming down her face and her head was thrown back, her lips bared her teeth as she shrieked. He dropped to his knees and grabbed her shoulders, trying to sit her up but her hand came flying up and hit him in the jaw. He ignored the blossoming pain there as he shook her.

"Winona! Winona, wake up!" He exclaimed and her eyes suddenly snapped open and her screams hitched in her throat, coming to complete silence. They spent moments staring at one another, panting heavily until she began to cry. "It was just a—" He swallowed hard, knowing that he was partially lying to her. "It was just a nightmare…"

"_Tell him I wanna go back!_"

"Huh?" He furrowed his brows together, still holding her by the shoulders and he helped her sit up completely from her laying position. Sumner came over. "Tell who? Where do you wanna go?"

"_Tell Alphonse I wanna go back into the Vault!_" She wailed, pushing her face into her hands. "_I—I'll be good! I'll be the best Vault resident ever!_"

"Winona—" Glasgow tried to speak, but she continued on with her frantic pleading.

"_I'll go back and work for Stanley, I won't complain anymore about programming Pip-Boys! I won't make my inventions anymore—I know he doesn't like them in the hallways and it bothers everyone else!_"

"Miss Parker, please," Sumner knelt down behind Glasgow. "I am sorry to say that you cannot go back. You cannot re-enter the Vault—we cannot tell Alphonse to let you back in."

"But I wanna go back!" She sobbed, turning her head up so her wide bleary eyes stared back into Glasgow's. "I don't wanna be out here! He—everyone can pretend my dad never left! We can pretend that the door never opened, and dad never left! We could!"

"Doll, it just don't work like that…" He muttered softly. "I'm sorry..."

"_**NO!**__ I have to __**try! I need to TRY!**_" She tried pushing him away, but he clung onto her shoulders. "_I wanna go back! Everyone can pretend nothing bad ever happened! __**We could! **_**I **_**could!**_"

Harriet suddenly came into the cave, her cigarette burning between her lips and she calmly stepped up behind Glasgow and shoved him roughly out of the way by kneeing him in the side. He fell over, colliding into Sumner so the two were tangled up on the ground and in their confusion, the one-eyed woman dropped to a kneel and grabbed Winona by her arms.

"_I could pretend dad never left!_"

Harriet held her hand high above her head, palm flat.

"_**I could pretend that he's just DEAD!**_"

Her hand came colliding down, and the stinging sound of hand upon cheek contact traveled through the cave. Winona went quiet with her hair thrown into her face, her eyes wide, and her cheek blossoming red. Harriet gripped her shoulders firmly and spoke.

"You are _not_ going back into that fucking Vault—you are staying out here, and you know why? Because you left the Vault for a fucking _reason_ in the first place! You're out here to find your dad, aren't you?"

Fresh tears trailed from Winona's eyes and she bit down on her lower lip, staring at the ground as Harriet continued to speak. Glasgow growled in anger, getting up from his side to his knees but Sumner pulled his back and shook his head as he picked up his hat from the ground and put it back on his head.

"You're out here to find your dad, and _we're_ here to help you find him. _You_ said I could trust you, now it's _your_ turn to trust me! To trust _us!_"

She tried to stifle her crying by biting down on her lip harder, sniffling and hiccupping until she finally forced her face into her hands and began sobbing again. Harriet let go of her shoulders and she fell back onto her mattress, curling up into a ball with her knees tucked into her chest and Harriet stood up, took a long drag from her cigarette, and walked to the mouth of the cave. Glasgow scrambled on his hands and knees to Winona's side and rubbed her back soothingly, leaning down to her face to make sure she was okay.

"That was not _completely_ unnecessary, Harriet." Sumner stated as he got to his feet and watched her walk. "You could have done without the physical contact."

"Ever heard of "_slapping some sense into somebody?_" She called over her shoulder, flicking the dead ashes to the ground from her lit cigarette as she stepped into the sunlight.

"You lay another hand on her _ever _again," Glasgow called, and she stopped her walk to look back at him. He stared back at her, his face contorted into one of pure rage. "And I'll fuckin' kill you. Understand?"

She simply scoffed and brought her cigarette to her lips.

"You'll thank me one day,"

And hopped down out of sight.

* * *

><p>Harriet walked from their hideout to a nearby rock where she had put her gun down. The moment she reached it her knees buckled out from underneath her and she collapsed onto the rock, her gun sliding away from her and into the dirt. She panted heavily, almost in a panic, and a sharp pain shot through the left side of her head and she cried out at it. Her hand flailed up and grabbed at her eye patch, yanking it from her head and the tie snapped and broke from the force. She threw it to the side, where her shotgun was, and held her hand over the ruined and mutilated flesh around her right eye socket—as if it would help the pain subside. Her cigarette fell from her trembling lips.<p>

"_You see somethin' __**interestin'**__, bitch?"_

She closed her eyes and saw him standing before her, hunched over as he tried to zip up his pants. A lit cigar dimly lit the contours of his face, illuminating his beady, smiling eyes in the darkness. A small body lay trembling on the ground behind him, whimpering and whispering begging cries, her ripped panties around her ankles and her red hair fanned out against the ground around her head.

Another sharp pain worked its way through the right side of her head and when she opened her eye, the world was a blur in front of her as the tears came. She closed her eye again, her heart racing in her chest.

He was hunched over the red-headed girl, holding her arms above her head and was savagely thrusting his hips into her, claiming her as his while she screamed.

"_Pl- Please __**stop!**__ I'll do a- __**anything**__ if you stop! It __**hurts! It hurts so much!**__"_

Harriet couldn't take it anymore and forced her eye open, and all she saw was a combat knife plummeting towards her face.

"_Well you ain't gonna see __**nothin'**__ anymore! I'll make fuckin' __**sure of it!**_"

She screamed out, immediately clamping a hand down to her mouth to silence it. She pounded her heels against the hot, dusty ground as her muffled scream took all the air from her lungs and she forced herself to breathe when she was done—as if she couldn't just subconsciously do it anymore.

"Would you like to talk about it, Harriet?"

She snapped her head over her shoulder, her hand to her mouth and her eye wide. Sumner stood behind her, the brim of his hat casting shadows over his gentle eyes and in his outstretched hand was her broken eye patch. The tie was broken but retied in several different places, as it wasn't the first time she had pulled it her from face so violently.

"…_No._" She barked, swiping it from his hand and stared down at it. "That's mine…"

"I apologize. I found it on the ground." He said calmly as he took place on a rock next to hers. She turned her back to him as she put her eye patch back on with her head still ringing with the pain searing through. "More phantom pains?"

Her hands fell limply into her lap when she was done and she stared at the ground.

"…_Yeah._" She spat out quietly, and turned over to look at him.

"Are your phantom pains accompanied with the memory of what happened all those years ago?" He asked softly, and she grabbed at her eye patch again as if it would comfort her.

"…I see him, hunched over her—she's _screaming…_" She muttered, and looked back down at the ground with her hands falling into her lap. She hunched up her knees and stretched out her arms over them. "Every time I close my eye, he's there, _raping _her…"

"Say their names, Harriet. He can't hurt you anymore."

"And how do _you_ know that?" She barked, turning over to glare at him. "You wanna know how many times I ran away from him, but he always found me and dragged me back and beat me? _Thirteen times. __**Thirteen.**_" Her lips tightly pursed together. "This is the longest I've ever been away from him… _Seven years…_" She stared at the ground once again. "He's gonna kill me this time—or worse… Put me in the Bad Room."

"He will _not_ find you, Harriet. I promised you that when I found you, and I still promise it now." Sumner said firmly, and he got up from his rock to stand in front of her. "And if he ever does, do you know what I will do?"

"Kill him…"

"Precisely." He nodded, and held out a hand to her. "When he did that to your eye, that was the last time you ever saw him and that was the last time you will _ever_ see him."

"I figured as much, by what he said." She took his hand and stood up while picking up her combat shotgun from the ground.

"What did he say to you?"

"That he was gonna take out both my eyes with his combat knife… If he finds me, he'll take out my other eye." She looked up at him and walked past towards the cave. "I won't have to look at him ever again."

"You never said their names, Harriet."

Harriet stopped dead in her tracks and turned her chin to her shoulder to look at him.

"…I don't fucking have to."

"It always makes you feel better." He looked back at her. "It takes away the fear."

She sighed and looked away.

"Please, Harriet?" He asked as he followed up after her. "For me?"

"Katie. Her name was Katie… I used to call her Katie-Kat."

"And? What's _his_ name? You need to say his name too."

"…_Nicklaus._"

Harriet knew that Sumner was right. Every time the phantom pains would stab through her empty eye socket like Nicklaus' knife did through her eye, and the memories of that night and of what she saw came flooding back and Katie's screams echoed in her head like an unfortunate curse, he would make her say his name, and it brought to her some sort of comfort. Maybe because she wasn't saying it with fear… She was saying it with knowledge—knowledge that, maybe, Nicklaus wouldn't come back for her.

Knowledge that Nicklaus would never be able to find and reclaim what was his ever again.

Harriet looked on to the open clearing between the cave where they hid and the Fairfax ruins, where she saw a small group of Raiders coming towards the rocky hillside. They didn't have their weapons drawn, but it looked like they were scouting.

"Raiders," She breathed, and Sumner didn't even look back. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the darkness of the cave—deep in where Glasgow sat with Winona cradled in his lap on the roll-out mattress. One leg sprawled out and the other was crooked up so his arm stretched over it, Winona was curled up into his chest with her head on his shoulder and she hugged her knees to her chest. Her eyes were closed and she breathed deeply, as if she had fallen asleep. The ex-raider's sharp eyes raked over her face with a thoughtful glimmer in them, and he brushed her bangs out of her face.

"I suddenly find the need to place a boundary between you and Miss Parker," Sumner stated as he came over and knelt down in front of their stash as he pulled out his laser pistol and holstered it to his hip, then grabbed for his laser rifle.

"She didn't want me leavin' her," He explained with minor amusement as he watched the elderly bodyguard lock and load. "Asked that I stay close, so I did, and she fell asleep on me."

"You don't seem all that upset about it," Harriet deadpanned as she shouldered Sumner a bit out of the way to quickly grab for her satchel of frag grenades.

"What's goin' on?" He asked curiously.

"Raiders—a small group coming towards the hillside." Sumner explained as he made sure his rifle was loaded and wouldn't jam.

"Are they running?"

"No. Seemingly calm—for the moment."

"Then let's get the jump on them," Glasgow grinned. "They could have something useful for us… 'Sides, before we go to GNR like Burke said we should make a pit-stop at Megaton to resupply and rest where it's actually _safe._"

"Agreed." Harriet and Sumner spoke in unison, and Glasgow started to shake Winona awake.

"Doll, wake up." He murmured softly, and her eyes slowly flittered open. She groaned from her sleepy daze and rubbed her eyes. "You're gonna have to wake up for me. I need to get up."

"Why?" She slurred, and looked up at him blankly.

"There's Raiders outside," Harriet explained, and Winona immediately went rigid in his lap. She grabbed for the front of his shirt, clawing her nails into it and her eyes went wide and frantic.

"_**Don't leave me!**_" She cried, and he looked down at her solemnly. "_I don't want them finding me! I don't want them finding me and doing to me all the things you said they do! __**I'm scared!**_"

"I know you're scared doll, but I gotta help them, okay?" He took her hands in his and tried to pry her fingers out from his shirt so he could get up. "They're not going to get you, okay?"

"_Don't leave me!_" She wailed again, throwing herself at him with her arms around his neck and she cried into his chest. Glasgow looked up at them helplessly.

"Stay here with her," Sumner ordered. "Harriet and I will find cover near the mouth of the cave to make sure they aren't coming for us. If you hear _any_ noise, take Miss Parker and _hide._ Do not fight unless you are encountered by the enemy, understand?"

"Yes sir." He nodded.

"Harriet," The elderly man called as he got up and made his way to the mouth of the cave with her following. They crouched towards the light and crawled out, trying to stay as low to the ground as possible to hide amongst the jagged face of the terrain surrounding the cave. Glasgow watched them leave before turning his attention to Winona.

"You okay?" He asked quietly, and she nodded before huddling closer to him, her fingers still caught in his shirt.

"Don't—Don't leave me, Glasgow…" She murmured, turning her head up to look at him and her forehead bumped his chin gently. "_Please…_"

"I'm not going _anywhere_, dollface." He smiled slightly to try and comfort her, but that was when he heard yelling and the sound of rapid gunfire going off outside. He snapped his head up to the sounds and so did Winona, who had her arms wrapped around his neck again in terror.

"Doll, listen to me—" Glasgow looked down at her. "I gotta get some of my gear, in case any of them come in here. You're going to have to let go of me."

She looked up at him fearfully, almost defiantly.

"I won't be able to protect you without my stuff," He said firmly. "You _need_ to let _go._"

It felt like forever and a day until her grip slowly relaxed from his shirt and he brought her out of his lap so he could stand up. He crouched over to his bag, amongst the belongings of Harriet and Sumner, and was only able to grab for his pistols before he heard Sumner cry out;

"_There's one going for the cave!_"

Glasgow grabbed Sumner's trench coat and Winona, and took her to a corner at the back of the cave where they could wedge in between the rocky wall and a boulder. He sat her against the wall before crouching down in front of her with the trench coat thrown over his head so it trailed down his back.

"_Do __**not**__ move, or make __**any**__ noise._" He ordered as he pushed her against the wall and she was settled in between his knees, staring directly up into his face. He put his hands against the wall above both of her shoulders so he could keep his balance in his crouched position and his breathing slowed to an almost inaudible level. Winona was panting, and the moment he heard footsteps echoing amongst the cave walls, he clamped a hand over her mouth and her eyes went wide. She grabbed for his hand as tears swelled in her gleaming eyes.

"Yoo-_hoo,_" A rugged voice taunted in a singsong voice as the footsteps came to a cautious and slow stroll. "Come out, come out _wherever you are._ _I know you're __**fucking**__ in heeeere!_"

Winona began to shake and the tears overflowed from her eyes. She bit down on her lip behind Glasgow's hand and squeezed her eyes shut as her chest heaved with her frantic breathing. He waited for some sort of noise, or sign—_anything_.

Then he heard the catch of boots against the ground; as if someone were turning around. He carefully pulled back the trench coat _just_ enough for him to see a Raider standing in the center of the cave with his back facing them. When Winona caught sight of the glinting knife in his hand, she went rigid against him and she stopped breathing all together—her wide eyes trained on the knife as he turned it over and over in his hand, as if it were some sort of toy.

That's when Glasgow looked back at her mouth the words; _"trust me."_

She closed her eyes and continued biting down on her lower lip, trying to stifle her sobs as Glasgow pulled for his pistol on his thigh and kept an eye on the Raider as he pulled back the trench coat and aimed his weapon. When he pulled the trigger, the knife went flying out of the Raider's hand and clattered to the floor, as he brought his afflicted hand to his chest as if to nurse it.

"You picked the wrong fucking day to go exploring," Glasgow hissed through clenched teeth as got up, dropping Sumner's trench coat onto Winona and she clutched it to her chest for comfort. The Raider turned to Glasgow, trying to silence his groans of pain with his hand still clutched to his chest, his face contorted into anger as he growled.

"You're gonna be a sorry sonofabitch when my boys kill your little friends and come up here to get you next," He snarled, but Glasgow only laughed.

"And how many others do you have with you? Two, maybe three if you're lucky?" His smile went from ear to ear. "Raiders never go out on scouting parties with any more than that."

"I've got five of 'em down there—one's even got a missile launcher. That's gonna blow _somebody_ to little bite-sized pieces for the fucking Yao Guai if they get too close."

"Didn't hear your buddy use it yet," He stated, but no sooner had the words left his mouth did a loud explosion rupture from outside.

Winona whimpered from her corner in the back, and the Raider's eyes cut to her. She tensed under his cold gaze, clutching the trench coat tighter to her chest and he seemed to find the sight amusing, because he grinned despite his pain.

"Is that your little fuck toy?"

Glasgow stopped smiling, but he said nothing to the Raider as his eyes roamed her body, trying to find an opening in the trench coat so he could actually look at her.

"Why don't you get up and do a little spin for papa, huh?" She looked away from him. "Aw, we gotta shy one o'er here, don't we?"

"Don't you _fucking_ talk to her," Glasgow barked, and the Raider laughed, continuing with his taunting.

"I bet 'ya got a tight pussy—" He licked his dry lips. "I'd fuckin' _wreck _that… And then I'll let my boys toss you around. 'Ya know what my buddy Knuckles does? He's gotta thing for fucking broads with his rifle, and sometimes his finger just… _Slips._"

"_I said __**don't**__ talk to her!_" He yelled again, and swung his pistol forward to hit his enemy in the face, but he was able to block the attack by bringing up his elbow. The Raider's fist swung up at his side and punched him in the nose, causing him to stumble back and drop his gun before punching him in the gut. Glasgow was slammed up against the wall. The two wrestled, knocking over bags and other things off to the side, throwing punches back and forth at each other until Glasgow kneed the Raider in the gut. When he hunched over in response, Glasgow then grabbed him by the shoulders to shove him down and knee him in the face. He sprawled back on the ground, and the ex-raider looked on smugly at winning the fist fight, wiping the blood dripping from his broken nose with the back of his hand. He turned to Winona with a small smile.

"You okay, doll?" He asked softly, reaching a helpful hand out to her so he could help her up.

She nodded, and just as she was about to take his hand was he tackled from behind by the Raider so they were up against the rock at her side. Winona screamed and crawled away, and when she did, it caught his attention so his boot went colliding into her stomach in a swift kick. She slammed into the wall and fell to the floor, heaving violently. Satisfied, the Raider turned his attention back to him, where he shoved Glasgow's own pistol against his forehead roughly.

Winona sat up, continuing to heave when she looked over her shoulder at what had transpired. Tears streamed from her eyes, blurring her vision even further and she hiccupped heavily, unsure of what to do.

_I—I need to get Harriet! Or Sir Sumner! They'll help!_

"I'm gonna _enjoy_ blowin' your brains out," The Raider hissed through clenched, plaque-encrusted teeth joyously.

_**He's gonna be DEAD by then.**_ A voice answered her back. _**Tch. Some hero YOU'LL be—especially after he saved you from that fucking sick, cannibalized dick-wad.**_

_What do I do?..._ She pleaded, dragging herself forward over the rocky ground in her blurry daze, still crying and hiccupping. _What do I __**do?**_

That's when her hand came into contact with something cylindrical. Her fingers, barely able to register what it was, slowly wrapped around it and she picked it up. Blinking the tears from her eyes, she was able to register that it was a Phillips head screwdriver. It must have rolled out from her bag when Glasgow and the Raider's fist-fight had gone towards the bags.

She rolled onto her side and looked up at the Raider, then back down at the screwdriver in her hand.

_What do I __**do?...**_ She asked again.

"And after I turn your fuckin' brains into some nice decoration for this fucking cave, I'm gonna _fuck_ your little girlfriend over there _on top _of your _dead__** body.**_" The Raider sneered. "I bet she'd enjoy that."

"_Don't you __**fucking**__ lay a hand on her!_" Glasgow roared.

**_You wanna know what 'ya gotta FUCKING do?_**

And that was when everything stopped around her, but everything seemed to click together in her head—as if everything that never made sense before made sense now.

Winona lunged up from the ground.

_**Learn how to fight for YOURSELF.**_

She charged at the Raider, her Phillips screwdriver aimed high above her head.

_**Learn how to defend those you LOVE.**_

With a scream that released everything ill that plagued her, she closed her eyes and swung the screwdriver down, feeling it pierce through thick flesh with a sickening sound. Another scream that wasn't her own filled her ears.

_**Learn how to KILL.**_

When she stepped back and slowly opened her eyes, she gasped at what she saw—at what _she_ had done.

The Raider had gone rigid but his legs trembled underneath him. Jutting out from his flesh, behind the bone between his shoulder and neck, was her screwdriver—buried into him all the way to the handle. Glasgow looked to it, finding a golden opportunity for him and he yanked it out of the Raider's shoulder, causing him to scream as a fountain of red spurted forth. He stabbed it into the Raider's neck, twisting it every which way before pulling it out and stabbing it into his chest. He continued repeatedly savagely stabbing and stabbing until Winona crumpled to her knees, tears streaming down her face and she heard pounding footsteps running into the cave. She spun around and saw the outlines of two people running towards her.

"_**Glasgow! **Help me!_" She shrieked as one grabbed her arm, and she flailed, trying to get away, but at the same time striking her attacker in the face.

"_Ow! My fucking __**nose!**_"

Winona opened her eyes and saw Harriet holding her nose, her eye twitching and turning slightly bleary from being struck in the face by her.

"Ha- Harriet!..." She murmured with wide eyes, streaming tears still.

"Are you alright, Miss Parker?" Sumner asked as he came up behind Harriet. "What happened to you?"

"The _princess_ happened to me," She cringed. "Walloped me in the fucking beak…" She rubbed her nose to make sure it wasn't broken, and Sumner just rolled his eyes.

"Doll, are you alright?" Glasgow asked, stepping over the body of the now-dead Raider and he dropped the screwdriver, stepping over it as it clattered to the ground. His shirt was streaked with blood, and it was slashed up his cheek while his own blood trickled from his broken nose. He licked it away and spat it out onto the Raider's lifeless body.

"I—I'm fine…" She nodded meekly, feeling her legs turning numb underneath her as if she didn't have legs at all and her vision began to spot while her head swam. "I just feel really… _strange…_"

Winona went unconscious and collapsed, but Glasgow's arms were already outstretched and waiting for her.

_**Learn how to survive.**_


End file.
